Ivy Snare
by Aceboizor
Summary: Green Trilogy #2. This year, Sam Evans runs away from home and her horrible Mother, only to find herself falling deeper into dangers she never even realised existed. Now there's no one to pull her free as she finds herself living a life she never wanted.
1. Secrets

"Samantha!" came my mother's muffled voice from the next room.

"What?" I called back, not bothering to stop strumming the guitar cradled in my arms. I traversed my way through the sheet music Terence Higgs had just sent me; we had been swapping music back and forth throughout the summer, hoping to keep our band, The Four Houses, going at Hogwarts when fall rolled around again. I parted my lips, inhaling deeply in order to add some new lyrics to the piece when she called out again, louder.

"Samantha!"

"What?" I called back again, all the air escaping me in a huff.

"Cut that out, I need to concentrate on this report for the Ministry," she snapped. With that tone, I could practically see her annoyed facial expression through the wall dividing us.

"I have to practice, Mother. And since you won't let me go flying, this is what I'm going to do to pass the time," I snapped back, repeating the bridge to make sure I knew it.

"You put that wretched instrument down this instant, young lady!" She swept into the room, nose in the air, robes fluttering in her wake. "It's not even yours, it's Theo's, so put it away!"

"Dad gave it to me, remember?" I said, my temper rising, but I kept my eyes on the sheet music in front of me as I played, bypassing the bridge entirely this time and skipping to the chorus. "And besides, I don't think he'd mind me playing it since he isn't around—"

"Don't you have work to be doing?"

I stopped strumming at those words and stared up at her. "Is that all you care about?"

The doorbell rang. Jumping up, I gratefully embraced the interruption, sheet music flying up into the air as I rushed away, the parchment landing awkwardly between the strings and flopping over onto the couch as I sped from the room.

"I know you have homework to be doing, young lady!" Mother called after me.

"Why don't you ask me what I'm practicing for instead, like a normal parent?" I called back, my hand on the doorknob. "All you care about are my marks in bloody Potions class!" I flung the door open angrily as I spoke and turned to face the unfortunate soul on the doorstep with a huff.

I froze.

I stared.

I gaped.

"Professor Snape?"

"Who's at the door, Samantha?" Mother shouted from her study.

I hesitantly cleared my throat. "Professor Snape," I repeated in response to her question.

"Who?"

"Professor Snape, my Potions instructor!" I said louder, watching the professor's eyebrows raise as I continued to stare disbelievingly at him.

"What Potions instructor?"

I groaned loudly in response, snapping out of my stunned stance and stepping back to allow Snape inside. "At Hogwarts! How many Potions instructors do you think I have?" I could hear Mother's footsteps crossing the house.

"Well, how am I supposed to know—oh! Severus!"

"Cassandra," Snape replied with a nod.

"You know each other?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Come in, Severus, come in. Can I get you anything? Samantha, go put the kettle on," Mother said graciously, gesturing grandly for the professor to follow her into the sitting room. I stared after them, stunned once again into stillness. How on earth did she know Snape?

I was snapped out of my reverie when I heard an enormous clunking noise. I bolted into the sitting room to find that Mother had tossed my guitar off the sofa and onto the floor, the sheet music formerly stuck in the frets now crumpled underneath.

"Mother!" I cried, rushing over and checking it for damages. An enormous crack was now running up the body of the instrument. I groaned.

"Tea, young lady! Now!" she barked.

I resisted the urge to bring my guitar down over her head and stomped into the kitchen to make her bloody tea.

"What a pleasant surprise," I heard my mother saying next door. "What brings you here after all these years?"

After all these years? I thought. Never mind if they knew each other, how long had they known each other?

Snape's voice was too quiet for me to hear, so I went about making the tea and decided that I didn't care. I ambled about the kitchen, putting together the usual tray, humming to myself. I sang through Terence's piece in my head, testing out a few words here and there. I wondered suddenly how I would be able to repair my guitar if I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. Mother certainly wouldn't repair it.

When the tea was ready, I carried the tray into the sitting room where the conversation immediately ceased. I set it down on the table and moved to collect my guitar from the floor.

"Miss Evans," Snape said civilly as I passed by him.

"Professor," I replied curtly. "How are—"

"How are Samantha's Potions marks? Since we were talking about them earlier, I have been ever so curious," Mother interrupted, her face a solid mask of false concern.

Snape raised an eyebrow at my mother before answering. "Top notch," he said shortly, no longer looking in my direction as I scooped up my guitar and examined it further. Yes, this would certainly require wandwork to fix.

Mother scoffed. "I should hope so, after all I went through to teach her. She's ever so stubborn. And so distracted since last summer. She should take more care."

"Take more care?" I ejaculated, flinging my guitar back into its spot on the sofa next to Snape. "What, to make sure Death Eaters don't come running after me and Dad that way I can concentrate better in class?"

"Well, it's certainly not my fault Theodore's dead, seeing as I wasn't there," Mother said primly.

"What, so it's my fault?" I spat, fists clenched at my side.

Mother pursed her lips and didn't answer.

All the air whooshed from my body as the silence stretched out. The silence rang ruthlessly in my ears. I could feel myself shaking. Did she really think—? How could she possibly accuse me of—?

The nightmare that had plagued my sleep for almost a year brought itself to the front of my mind, that wretched dream where I was forced to relive my father's death every single sodding night, the one where Mother's face would appear and tell me that I hadn't been good enough…and now here it was, in blinding reality.

My body was jerking spastically with the effort to keep from striking the horrid woman before me. I inhaled suddenly, a heaving gasp, my body unable to work without oxygen for any longer as I spun on the spot. I marched from the room, stomped up the staircase, packed a bag, and left the house. A wave of my wand arm brought the Knight Bus crashing to a halt before me, and I was whisked away from the place I could never call home.


	2. Monsters

The Knight Bus deposited me on the corner of Magnolia Road in Little Whinging. My answer to the conductor's question of "Where abouts are you 'eaded" had come impulsively as I had thrown myself gracelessly onto the nearest bed. Now, I looked around the deserted streets as the Knight Bus disappeared with a bang behind me.

It was disgustingly hot outside, but that didn't make me yearn for the magicked coolness of the house I had just left. So I trudged forward, hitching up my rucksack as I went, and began meandering the abandoned-looking neighbourhood. The sun was setting rapidly on the horizon, lengthening my shadow as I walked. I was just beginning to sweat through my shirt when a group of teenage boys came swaggering around the corner toward me.

"Well, well, well. What's this? What's a pretty little thing like you doing walking around by yourself at this late hour?" one of the boys said thickly, much to the amusement of his friends.

I raised an eyebrow, coming to a halt as the boys blocked the sidewalk. I glanced up at the sky, which was darkening quickly. "Is it past your bedtime already?"

The guffawing boys fell silent at my words. All of them looked to the largest boy in the group for instructions. "Watch it, princess," he said, "or—"

"Or what, Duddykins?" came a familiar and welcome voice from behind me. I turned to find Harry Potter striding toward us.

I smiled widely. "Hey, Harry!"

"Sam," he said, his smile matching mine as we embraced.

"Ew, the freak has a freak girlfriend. That's disgusting," the boy retorted with a sneer.

I snorted. "This one catches on quick, eh, Harry?" I said sarcastically.

"You have no idea. Come on, let's go," Harry replied, and we strode away from the group.

"So what are you doing here?" Harry asked a when we were out of earshot. "No one's ever visited me here before. Well, unless you count when the Weasleys tried to Floo into my uncle's chimney and ended up blowing it to bits."

I laughed loudly at this, imagining a herd of red-headed Weasleys bursting through a muggle fireplace. Shaking my head, I spoke. "Just wanted to see your pretty face, silly."

Harry laughed. "Well, it's great to see you."

"And you. How have you been?" I asked.

"Bored," he said immediately, a trace of irritation flickering across his face. "I haven't heard a thing since Voldemort's return. Do you know anything?"

I shook my head. "Haven't heard anything unusual. It's weird, I was expecting more uproar about it."

"I don't get it. What's he up to?"

I shrugged. Harry sighed.

"Well, how has your summer been, then?"

I winced. "Awful. I—"

"Oi! Freak!" came a voice from down the street. Harry and I turned to find the head of the gang from earlier waddling after us.

"That's Dudley, my cousin," he whispered before the boy had made it to us.

"Yikes," I said softly in return. Harry chuckled.

"So who's the girl?" he asked, joining us as we continued to walk through the streets.

"I'm Sam. Sam Evans. You?" I said, my voice somehow bordering between polite and rude.

"She's a witch, Big D," Harry said conspiratorially.

Dudley gasped. "What is it doing here! You're not allowed to…to…"

"To exist?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm allowed to be wherever I want. And I'm a person, not an it."

Dudley tried to compose himself, but couldn't seem to bring himself to speak again. I frowned sideways at Harry, who was smirking.

"So what have you been up to, Big D? Beat up another ten-year-old?"

"This one deserved it!" Dudley retorted, snapping out of his silence swiftly.

"Sure, sure."

The two bantered back and forth as I watched amusedly. The stars were starting to come out as the sun set further beneath the horizon. Shadows faded as we walked, the boys' voices penetrating the otherwise complete silence. I much preferred this to the conversations I usually had with Mother.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Dudley cackled suddenly. "Don't kill Cedric!" he said in a simpering voice. "Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?"

Our strange trio stopped walking suddenly as Harry gawked at his cousin. I stared, wondering how Dudley could possibly know about Cedric.

"I—you're lying," Harry said after a moment, his wand in his hand.

"Mum! Dad! He's trying to kill me, Mum! Help me! Please, Dad, he's going to—Don't you point that thing at me!"

"Harry," I said sharply. Harry's wand was pointed directly at his broad chest, Dudley backing hurriedly up into the alley wall. I reached out and gripped my cousin's wrist.

"Don't ever talk about that again!" Harry snarled. "Do you understand me?"

"Harry, stop this. Don't—"

"Point that thing some place else!" Dudley said over me.

"I said, do you understand me?" Harry repeated.

"Harry," I said again, placing a rough hand on his shoulder.

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"HARRY, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM—"

More suddenly than anything I had ever experienced, everything vanished. The sky and the alley around me disappeared, the distant sound of cars and civilisation cut off entirely. A freezing sensation swept through my body, goosebumps erupting across my skin. I stared blindly around, the sound of shifting alerting me to the fact that Harry was doing the same.

Dudley was shrieking. "Wh-what are you d-doing? S-stop it!"

"I didn't do that," Harry muttered.

"Not unless you can switch off the stars," I whispered, listening hard as adrenaline slammed through my body.

"I said st-stop it! I'll tell Dad!" Dudley continued.

"Shut up!" Harry bit out.

"Dudley, listen," I said, "neither of us have the power to—"

"Cut it out! I'll hit you, I swear!" Dudley spoke over me.

"I said—"

An enormous whacking noise sounded next to my ear as Dudley swung blindly into the night. Harry fell to the ground hard, a leg swinging out and catching me behind the knees. I crumpled to the pavement, my knees scraping heavily on the concrete. I grunted as the pain shot up my back.

I fumbled for my wand as heavy footsteps thundered away from us.

"Dudley! You're running right at it!" Harry cried. There was a screech and Dudley's footsteps stopped. I shivered violently against the cold. "Dudley, whatever you do, keep your mouth shut!"

"Lumos," I said, my teeth chattering slightly. The area illuminated in the wandlight to reveal Harry sprawled on the ground next to me searching frantically for his wand, and Dudley being lifted from his feet by an enormous dementor. "Oh, hell."

Harry, finding his wand, pointed it directly over my shoulder. Turning, I spotted a second dementor flying straight toward us.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry cried. A silver wisp escaped his wand, but nothing more.

The dementor slowed just enough to allow me to bound to my feet and put some space between us. I heard Harry swear under his breath.

"What's that spell, Harry?" I called over Dudley's shrieking.

"Just think of something happy!" he called back, attempting the incantation again. Another wisp of silver vapour.

"Right. Easy." I raised my wand at the dementor attacking Dudley and shouted the incantation.

Nothing happened.

"Harry," I said slowly, backing toward my cousin. My lungs felt constricted by the freezing air. I couldn't seem to think of anything happy, the despair I felt welling up inside like nothing I had ever felt before.

"What's the happiest you've ever felt," he grunted, almost to himself. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he bellowed the incantation again. An enormous white stag erupted from the end of his wand and charged at the dementor. It caught the creature with its antlers and hurled it away into the night sky.

There was no time to celebrate as Dudley moaned loudly, still in the arms of the other dementor. My breath caught. I felt as though all the happiness in the world had died with Dad as I watched the boy struggle.

Wait. Dad.

I screwed up my face in concentration, Dad's face shining in my mind, the cold already leaving my body as I shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

To my utter astonishment, a massive hawk exploded out of my wand, catching the dementor directly in the chest with its talons and knocking it away. I gasped in relief as silence followed the departure of the two dark monsters.

The stars and street lamps burst back into existence, lighting up the alleyway once again. The hot summer air returned, alerting me to the fact that I was sweating profusely. I stood there for a moment, shaking slightly and listening hard into the mundane sound of everyday life.

"Dudley," Harry whispered after a moment, dashing over to where the boy now lay.

"Is he…?" I started to ask, swaying on the spot slightly, watching as Harry reached out a trembling hand toward his cousin.

"I think he's all right," Harry breathed. "What the hell were two—"

He stopped suddenly when the sound of footsteps reached our ears. Turning, we spotted an old woman hobbling toward us. Harry and I glanced at each other, awkwardly moving to hide our wands behind our backs.

"Don't put away your wand, Harry!" the woman whispered frantically.

I shot Harry a quizzical look.

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry hedged. "What—?"

"Keep your wand out! I'm a Squib, Dumbledore knows I can't so much as transfigure a matchstick!"

"Wait, Dumbledore?"

The woman went on a rambling spree about the Statute of Secrecy, cats, and some bloke called Mundungus Fletcher. I used the time to kneel next to Dudley and cast a quick Healing enchantment on him to reduce the shock. It didn't seem terribly effective, so I focused on the bruise now forming on his forehead and working to decrease the swelling. But with limited Healing experience, that was all I could do for him.

Mrs. Figg urged us to get moving, so Harry and I struggled to get Dudley to his feet in order to follow her. We practically dragged the large boy through Little Whinging as the lady continued her verbal rampage.

With adrenaline still slamming through my veins, I nearly shot a stunning spell at an unsuspecting man as he aparated before us suddenly. But Mrs. Figg seemed to recognise him and proceeded to give him an earful on abandoning Harry on his watch.

"So people have been following me all summer?" Harry asked.

"Of course, you silly boy! You can't be left on your own!" Mrs. Figg said, flailing her arms slightly as they turned down Privet Drive. She continued rambling right up until we reached the door to number four. Only then did she leave us looking utterly confused on the doorstep as she trotted off into the night.

"Who exactly was that?" I asked.

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "Right now, I have no idea."

"Great." This was certainly shaping up to be more interesting than the rest of my summer combined.


	3. Stranded

We sat on opposite sides of Harry's bedroom, the silence complete around us. My wand was gripped tightly in my hand, knuckles white as we each contemplated our fate in the darkening bedroom. We didn't bother flipping on a light, and so the night consumed us.

Ever since arriving at 4 Privet Drive, everything had become a blur. Between a frantic Aunt Petunia to a livid Uncle Vernon, I hadn't been able to get a word in. I watched the commotion, Harry placing himself in front of me slightly as he battled with his relatives. And just as I thought the drama might be ending, an owl flew through the open window and deposited letters at our feet telling me and Harry that we had been expelled from Hogwarts.

"And who the hell is this?" Vernon had yelled as Harry and I turned to retreat up the staircase.

"Do you care?" Harry had replied blandly.

I remembered wondering if the vein pulsing in the man's neck might erupt right then and there. "No!," he had bellowed. "But no funny business, you hear?"

A thought itched in my mind as I sat in Harry's room after the yelling match. I twitched as though it would flick it away like an annoying insect. But the itch grew. It pecked at my thoughts until I couldn't fight it anymore.

I turned to Harry from across his bedroom and fixated him with an unflinching stare. His eyes met mine and the thought transferred between us.

"No," he said.

I sighed.

"Dumbledore will fix this."

"You can't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind."

Harry didn't respond.

The silence resumed. I glanced over at my bag, which was perched on the end of Harry's bed. It would be so easy to just disappear. I used to travel the world; I knew how it was done. I could survive. We could survive. We could escape the Ministry's grasp, wands in tact…if we wanted…

Harry's uncle was at the door, muttering something about the family leaving. Harry responded dully, and then all was quiet once again. I glanced out the window to the darkening street below.

"I know this incredible place in America—" I started.

"Sam. Please, stop tempting me."

"Fine." I stood up, crossing over to the bed. I swung my bag onto my back and squared my shoulders.

"Sam—"

But Harry fell silent as we heard an enormous crash from downstairs. We stared wide eyed at each other as voices reached our ears.

"Get up," I hissed, lifting my wand and slinking silently over to the door. Harry was at my side a moment later, and together we stepped out into the dark landing.

"The bottom stair creeks," Harry breathed into my ear as we crept downstairs. I nodded, and with a wordless signal, we leaped out to face the intruders, wands raised.

"Whoa there, put those things away," came a gruff, hauntingly familiar voice.

My body went completely rigid as that voice turned my blood into ice.

"Professor Moody?" Harry asked hesitantly, lowering his wand.

"Don't know much about 'professor' seeing as I didn't get around to teaching," Moody replied, glancing at me as I stared openly at him, wand pointed at his face.

"Sam, he's not…it's not him. It's okay. Really," Harry said consolingly, reading the thoughts in my eyes as I relived the end of last term in my mind. That man's face was forever seared in my memory. Harry gripped my arm, gently forcing it back to my side.

"Right," I said stiffly, still unable to look away from the man who so closely resembled the potion-altered murderer who had destroyed my life a year previously. My breathing was shallow and quick as Moody, the real Moody, frowned at me.

A moment later, a round of greetings were made by the crowd of people standing just behind Moody that I hadn't even noticed. Harry was enveloped in people wanting to shake his hand or any part of him they could reach.

"Look at her eyes!" someone gasped suddenly, and I snapped out of my thoughts.

"This is Sam, my cousin," Harry said with a smile.

"But how?" one man asked breathlessly.

"My dad's cousin was Harry's mum," I spoke up.

"Who?" The man pressed.

I cleared my throat, my eyes still flickering occasionally toward Moody. "Theodore Evans. We spent my entire life traveling, so I didn't even know I had any extended relatives until I showed up at Hogwarts last year and met Harry."

"So do you live here, too?" a woman with flamingly pink hair piped up, glancing around at the pristine household.

"No. I was just…visiting."

"So what are you all doing here?" Harry interjected, clearly wanting to have gotten to this point sooner. We listened adamantly as the man (Remus Lupin, I later learned, who was Harry's former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor) told us that they were to take Harry to headquarters. Lupin did not elaborate beyond that.

"We weren't expecting to have guests," Lupin said, glancing kindly at me.

"Er—right. Well, I suppose I'll just—" I started, edging toward the door.

"Oh, no you don't," Harry said, snagging my arm before I was out of his reach. "Not before you tell me what you were really doing here today."

"Uh…"

Lupin, sensing my distress, interrupted.

"Why don't you go and help Harry pack and you two can talk. We'll wait."

I nodded, grateful. Harry, still gripping my elbow, tugged me back toward the staircase.

"All right, why are you here. Really."

It wasn't a question.

"Uh..." I stalled, looking everywhere but at my cousin who was standing with his hands on his hips directly in front of me. I moved over to look like I was helping him pack, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"Sam," he said softly, his green eyes almost impossible to look into. Were my own eyes so expressive?

"Mother thinks I'm to blame for my father's death," I breathed.

Harry's grip disappeared from my wrist. "What?"

His voice had an edge I had never heard before. I flinched almost imperceptibly, passing it off as the beginning to a slow, shaky nod. "You're joking."

"Nope," I said, wanting to seem casual. It didn't work.

"You never talk about your mum," Harry said gently, taking me be surprise.

"Oh. Uh, that would probably be why," I stammered. "She's-"

A massive crash sounded from downstairs, followed by a loud, "Sorry!" Harry and I chuckled, the tension in the room decreasing.

"Well, I'm glad you came here. Not that my aunt and uncle are any better, but at least you could get away." The look in Harry's eyes said he wanted nothing more than to be away from here. "Let's get going," he said, confirming my suspicion. "I'm sure you can come with us. Wherever we're headed."

I smiled. "Thanks, Harry. I appreciate it."

Once back downstairs, I avoided looking at Moody as much as I could while he explained how to get to the mysterious headquarters. He had reluctantly accepted Harry's repeated requests for my company on the journey.

"We won't have enough broomsticks," the man had growled.

"She can ride with me," Harry replied easily. Moody had eventually acquiesced.

I slipped up behind Harry, hitching up the rucksack on my back and wrapping my arms around Harry's chest. We shot up into the night sky and Little Whinging melted away into the darkness. I found myself pining for my own broomstick, trapped back at a house I would do anything to avoid.

The lamp posts on Grimmald Place did little to illumine the area when we arrived. Before I could ask any questions, I found myself separated from Harry and surrounded by more strangers than I was comfortable with in a room that looked like it was set up for some sort of meeting tucked away in a house that had sprouted out of nowhere.

"Hello Sam," said a woman with flaming red hair. Must be Mrs. Weasley, I thought. "I'm really sorry about all the fuss, but it seems Harry was very insistent. It's just, we can't really let you stay. I'm sure we can arrange for someone to take you home," she said kindly with a strained smile.

"Oh," I said, stiffening at the thought of returning to Mother's house. "Er-"

"She can stay," came a distinctive voice from the corner of the room.

Everyone turned.

I wondered vaguely how many more times I would find myself gawking awkwardly at Hogwarts' Potions master with the painfully passive face.

This had to be the strangest day of my life.

"What makes you say that, Severus?" said Lupin before turning to me. "Not that we wouldn't like for you to stay, you understand." He nodded kindly.

Snape leaned forward in his chair as he spoke in slow, deliberate tones. "She needs somewhere to stay, and I am vouching for her as a member of the Order. Is that clear enough for you?"

There was a long pause when no one spoke. I felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Very well!" Mrs. Weasley said a little too loudly. "Then why don't you hurry along upstairs with the others while we finish this meeting."

I was whisked from the room, certain that surprised was still etched clearly on my face. Following the sound of what I realized to be Harry shouting, I made my way up the stairs to the room from which his voice was emanating. The door creaked open loudly as I touched it.

"Sam!"

I found myself with an armful of Hermione Granger a moment later. The moment from earlier broke, and I found myself laughing. I settled down on the floor next to one of the Weasley twins—George? I wasn't sure—happy to be amongst friends once again. It was a relief after a long and stifling summer.

"How have you been, Sam?" Ginny asked me.

"I've been better. You?"

"I'm sorry. Harry said you had a rough summer," Ginny replied kindly. I nodded. "We were just talking about what's going on around here. It's been...different." Her voice trailed off as she looked around at the others in the room: Hermione, Ron, Harry, Fred, and George.

"Apparently Dumbledore's been getting ready," Harry informed me, still breathing heavier than normal from whatever shouting I had heard earlier. "The Order of the Phoenix is working against Voldemort."

"So the meeting that's going on downstairs...?" I began.

"We don't know what it's about specifically," Hermione spoke up, "just that it's for the Order. All those people downstairs are in the Order that Dumbledore brought together."

"So Lupin and Snape and...I thought I saw someone who looked like Sirius Black, now that I think of it."

"Snape?" Harry said sharply. "Snape's in the Order?"

"Yes," Ron said, "the git."

"Hello!" I interrupted. "What part of convicted murderer in the previous sentence was so easily forgettable?"

"Sirius is innocent," Ginny told me as the Gryffindor trio yammered on about Snape. "Someone else framed him."

"Oh. I'm guessing the Ministry doesn't realise that, then?"

Ginny nodded. "He's also Harry's godfather."

"I didn't know that," I said quietly. "That must be...complicated."

"Everything about Harry's life is complicated," Ginny agreed.

"They just can't expel you! I was reading up on it, and they simply can't!" Hermione was saying loudly, and I turned my attention over to her.

"Sam and I have a hearing at the Ministry later this month," Harry said dully for the benefit of those who didn't already know.

Hermione turned to me. "It was a life-threatening situation," she continued as though Harry hadn't said anything. "Even underage wizards can perform magic if their life is in danger. They can't possibly expel you for that."

"Thanks, Hermione. That's good to know," I said, rubbing my forehead as I noticed a headache coming on.

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley called the group down for dinner, and I was able to focus on eating and answering random questions about myself from different members of the Order rather than on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. And even though I was amongst friends, I wanted nothing more than to get back to Hogwarts.


	4. Lies

But before I could return to Hogwarts, I had to face my disciplinary hearing at the Ministry.

Harry was making me nervous; the look on his face was riddled with anxiety. Mr. Weasley escorted us to the Ministry, a place I had only been a few times before. I remembered those few instances when Dad had been called into the Quibbler offices on days when Mother was supposed to be presenting her findings at the Ministry as an on-site worker for the Department of Mysteries. On those awful occasions, I had been forced to accompany Mother.

We went to an entirely different part of the building today, however, to Mr. Weasley's dingy office in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department. It was much nicer up here: the false windows provided light to the interior of the rooms rather than the shadowed corridors of the Department of Mysteries.

Harry and I strolled around the small department in silence, each of us lost in thought. After what Hermione had said, I shouldn't have felt so anxious about the hearing, but I couldn't help it; there was too much at stake.

I kept a straight face when Harry turned to me and spoke. "What happens if-?"

"It won't," I said, the lie slipping from my lips more easily than I expected as Mr. Weasley came bolting around the corner.

"Harry! Sam!" he cried out to us, looking terribly upset. Harry and I hurried over to him as he nearly ran to the lifts.

"They changed the time of the hearing! It started five minutes ago! They've moved it, too. It's down in the old courtrooms. The lifts don't even go down so far!" he said, breathing heavily.

I swore under my breath as the lift rattled downward. "Next to the Department of Mysteries?"

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Courtroom ten. You know the one?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But why would they put us-"

"No time to ask questions. You and Harry need to get there now. I can't join you. I'll meet you by the lifts afterward. Good luck!"

Mr. Weasley practically shoved us out of the lift on our floor. I grabbed Harry's hand and dashed down the stairs. The corridors were exactly as I remembered them, the dark marble seeming to shrink the area around us.

We skidded to a halt in front of courtroom ten, gasping, hands still clasped. I looked over at my cousin, my eyes blazing with adrenaline-fuelled determination.

"You ready?" I asked. Harry shook his head. "Tough." I dropped his hand and pushed the doors open.

Harry gasped beside me as we strode into the enormous courtroom. I didn't spare him a glance, however, as I stared up at none other than the Minister of Magic seated at the judge's box.

"You're late," the man said coldly. I felt a sudden urge to sneer up at him, my frustration building from his sudden decision to change the time and place of the hearing with no consideration for anyone else. Instead, I opted for a cool aloofness.

"Yeah," I said, striding forward and cutting off the expected, "Sorry," from my distant cousin.

There were two chained chairs in the centre of the courtroom, ones that I had heard stories about from my mother. She had threatened more than once to bring me in here and chain me to them if I bothered her one more time. Then, it had seemed a terrifying prospect, but no more. I sat down swiftly in one of the chairs, the chains clanking from the movement, but they did not bind me or Harry.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offences committed under the Degree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter and Samantha Kay Evans, both students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Fudge droned on, listing the interrogators and members of the court, and I found myself growing bored. I glanced around the courtroom, noticing for the first time how dungeon-like it was. It wasn't an uncomfortable space for me, although Harry was fidgeting relentlessly beside me, casting worried glances around the room. The whole of the Department of Mysteries had the exact same feel, and I had been inside enough times to know that rooms like these rarely held any surprises.

"The charges against the accused are as follows," Fudge said, his words finally getting through to me as worth my attention, "that Harry James Potter did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine.

"For Samantha Kay Evans, that she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle on the same night as Harry James Potter, and proceeded to cast a Healing enchantment on the Muggle present shortly after. Both of these accusations constitute an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy."

I let out a huff of air as Fudge's accusations came to an end. So many fancy words to say a whole lot of nothing, I thought.

"You are Harry James Potter, of number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge asked, glaring at Harry.

"Yes," Harry said.

"And you are Samantha Kay Evans of number two-two-one-B—"

"Yes," I interrupted. Fudge's eyebrows rose.

"Mr. Potter, you received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"

I glanced at Harry, surprised as the boy answered in the affirmative.

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

"Yes," Harry said, clearly wanting to say more, "but—"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but—"

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"

"Yes, but—"

The back and forth continued, and I found myself growing increasingly agitated with Fudge's methods.

"You produced a corporeal Patronus?" one witch interjected. Madame Bones, one of the interrogators.

"A—what?" Harry stammered.

"Yes," I interjected, my patience reaching its limit. "We both did, because of the dementors!"

Silence fell at my words.

"We weren't doing it for a laugh; we were too busy saving our lives and the life of the Muggle who was with us!" I continued, taking advantage of the noiseless crowd.

"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madame Bones asked, clearly surprised. "I don't understand—"

"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, smirking. Don't you think it's convenient that Muggles can't seem dementors? These two thought it would be the perfect cover story. No witnesses."

"We're telling the truth!" Harry shouted as the courtroom broke out into loud muttering.

Fudge sneered unkindly, and spoke in a patronising voice that made me want to hurl something at him.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Why don't you both shut your eyes for me then, and on my mark, you each show me how many dementors attacked you using your fingers?"

"Or how about we use common sense and verify that there weren't indeed any witnesses?" I countered.

"Excuse me?" Fudge said, clearly taken aback.

I sat up straight in my chair, fully prepared to argue this man back to where he came from, fancy title or no. My parents had never been very fond of this minister anyway.

"A woman named Mrs. Figg was present on the night of August the second. She is a Squib, and thus you would not find her registered in Ministry records. Squibs have the ability to see dementors, and would be able to verify our story. She could tell you how we were attacked by two dementors in that ally—" I raised two fingers pointedly in response to Fudge's earlier suggestion. "—that we fought them off and saved Dudley Dursley's life. And when that was over, I performed Healing magic on Dudley to ensure that he was still in good health."

Fudge looked like he had swallowed something unpleasant. "Weasley," he barked down his row to a boy with flaming red hair that I suddenly recognised as Percy Weasley. "Floo this Figg woman immediately and verify this ridiculous story." Percy scampered away. The courtroom broke out into murmurs yet again.

"You're amazing, Sam, but I think I'm going to be sick," Harry whispered.

I reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. "I'm not going down without a fight. For both our sakes.

"Thanks."

"Any time."

Percy hurried back into the courtroom, an envelope in hand. He tossed it up into the air, where it hovered and emitted the voice of Mrs. Figg for all the court to hear.

Mrs. Figg recounted the experience, including the horrible feeling the dementors exude. By the end of her official statement, the court was silent once again.

"But why on earth would there be dementors in Little Whinging?" Madame Bones asked.

"Excellent question," I said softly.

"What was that?" Fudge snapped.

"I said, excellent question, sir. Dementors are supposedly under Ministry control. And, assuming the Ministry didn't unleash a couple of dementors on two underage wizards, then who else could have influenced them to do so?"

The muttering commenced at my words, some court members looking rather indignant at my suggestion that the Ministry could have been involved in the incident.

"What are you suggestion, Miss Evans?" Fudge demanded.

I shrugged, but my eye contact with the Minister spoke the words I didn't say: that a certain Dark wizard was indeed back. "Either way, clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and seeing as the lives of Harry, Dudley, and myself were at considerable risk, I'd say—"

"Enough! The court is familiar with clause seven, young lady."

"Then why are we still talking?"

The entire court went still, and Harry seemed to be doing his best impression of a statue.

"Mr. Potter," Fudge nearly exploded, clearly not wanting to speak to me anymore. "I'm sure you have an excellent story to share regarding the Hover charm you used three years ago?"

"That was a house-elf!"

"Ridiculous! These students are spouting nonsense!" Fudge roared.

"It's not nonsense!" Harry retorted. "His name was Dobby, and he now works at Hogwarts! You can ask him!"

"You also blew up your aunt!"

"An incident which you excused! Everyone loses control sometimes," Harry said, the end of his sentence dripping with insinuation as Fudge gesticulated in an attempt to think of something to say. I nearly laughed aloud, glad that Harry was joining me in the fight.

"What about what you get up to at school?"

"The Minsitry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanours at school," I snapped. "Nothing about our behaviour at Hogwarts is any of your business."

"None of our business, eh?"

"That's right. But of course you know that, seeing as you uphold the law."

"Laws can be changed."

"Clearly! Since when were full criminal trials held in order to deal with a simple matter of underage magic?" I said harshly.

The court shifted uncomfortably, and Fudge proceeded to show the court how many shades of red his face could turn.

Another witch spoke up, her flamingly pink robes and toad-like appearance nearly making me laugh aloud into the serious quietude of the courtroom.

"Are you by chance related to Cassandra Greyson?" she asked, her high-pitched voice a severe contrast to her appearance.

I stared up at her, frowning. "She's my mother."

"Ah," the witch said, and left it at that.

"Very well," Madame Bones interjected officially. "Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Over half of the court raised their hands.

"And those in favour of conviction?"

Fudge raised his hand, along with half a dozen others, including the witch in the pink. Noticing the discrepancy in numbers, Fudge choked out the words: "Cleared of all charges."

I wanted to dance. I wanted to sing. But the members of the court were still present, and so I opted for jumping to my feet and pulling my cousin from the courtroom.

"Harry! Sam!" came Mr. Weasley's voice. He hurried toward us looking positively faint. I couldn't hold back anymore: I burst out laughing. "I take it the hearing went well?"

The members of the court came spilling out of the courtroom and Mr. Weasley gawked.

"Was the whole of the Wizamagot in there?" he asked in disbelief.

"Pretty much," I said with a shrug, my mind filled with relief that I would be returning to Hogwarts as planned. I thought of Stewart and Luna, of Quidditch and The Four Houses, of the Ravenclaw common room and everything else that made Hogwarts home. Home.

We made our way over to the staircase, grins still etched on our faces, but were stopped short when an all-too-familiar voice rang through the corridor.

"Samantha!"

I froze. "Oh, Merlin's arse," I hissed, the smile dropping from my face immediately. I reluctantly turned to find no one else but Mother stomping our way. "Why did this have to take place in this department?"

"How dare you, you insolent child! Taking off to Merlin-knows-where with no warning! What were you thinking?"

The woman had taken hold of the front of my robes as she shrieked in my face. But before I could react, Mr. Weasley intervened.

"Excuse me!" Mr. Weasley bellowed, placing himself forcibly between us. Mother dropped her grip and stared up at the man. "Ma'am, I will not allow you to manhandle Miss Evans in such a manner."

"Miss Evans? That's my daughter, you idiot!"

Mr. Weasley's eyebrow rose as he glanced back at me. I nodded awkwardly, wanting to get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Harry was staring, his gaze swapping between me and my mother.

"Ah, well, Mrs. Evans, I'm sure you'll agree that such a display in public is hardly—"

"It's Ms. Greyson. My husband died nearly a year ago. And who exactly are you?"

"Arthur Weasley, one of many who are currently taking excellent care of your daughter. If you'll excuse us." Mr. Weasley grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the stairs.

"What exactly are you implying, Mr. Weasley?" Mother said scathingly, following us up the stairwell and over to the lifts.

Mr. Weasley hesitated, clearly not having expected this altercation to go so far. Mother's eyes lit up with savage victory at his pause.

"Nothing, Ms. Greyson, just that you might know more if you bothered to send an owl Sam's way every once in a while," Harry interjected, pushing me behind him and into the lift. Mr. Weasley followed suit, and the doors closed between us.

"And what would you know about—" Mother started to say, looking over at Harry for the first time. Her eyes widened with recognition, performing the familiar flip up to his scar.

"Because I'm her friend and I happen to give a damn," Harry hissed as the lift rattled upward and out of sight.

"Idiot girl!" Mother's voice trailed after us.

The silence stretched out as we travelled between the floors. Mr. Weasley coughed uncomfortably, polishing his glasses with his robes. Harry's jaw was clenched as he stared at the point where Mother's face had been moments before.

"You didn't have to do that," I said quietly after a time. "I'm used to it."

"I know. But that doesn't make it okay," Harry said, still staring at the lift doors.

"I'm sure she's a lovely woman when she's not upset," Mr. Weasley said kindly, clearly at a loss for what to say.

That did it. I burst out laughing again, the sound echoing loudly through the lift shaft. I fell against the wall, clutching my sides as I roared with hysterical laughter. Harry joined in, and all the tension that had been building in the days leading up to the hearing seemed to melt away.


	5. Reunion

The post was sitting on our beds when we returned to 12 Grimmald Place. It felt so terribly ordinary after such an intense experience at the Ministry. But after repeated rounds of hugs and celebration for getting off on the hearing, I seated myself gladly next to Ginny and Hermione on the floor of the bedroom we shared, happy to be able to join them in opening our Hogwarts letter.

Without warning, Hermione shrieked delightedly and bolted from the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Ginny asked, not looking up from her letter.

I shrugged, returning my attention to the bulky envelope in my hands. I tore it open and a small blue and silver badge fell out. A shiny letter "P" was emblazoned on the front, the word "prefect" engraved underneath.

"Oh," I said in surprise.

"Hey, congrats," Ginny said, gesturing at the badge in my hands. "Today really is your day."

"Thanks," I said, still surprised; I had only been at Hogwarts for a year, not to mention that I had just nearly been expelled. Not that I minded, just that after everything, I wasn't expecting Dumbledore to choose the new girl.

Still not quite believing it, I flipped open the letter.

Miss Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted the rank of Prefect at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Congratulations.

With this news, we would also like to inform you of your admittance to the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. Captain Roger Davies and Seeker Cho Chang have discussed this at length with Professor Flitwick in tandem with Cho Chang's decision to step down from the team due to personal reasons in reflection of last term's events. She and Roger have chosen to have you replace her from this season onward.

Your booklist and ticket for the Hogwarts Express are enclosed.

Sincerely,

The Hogwarts Staff

"Whoa," I breathed. "Harry!"

I dashed out of the room and into the boys' bedroom where I found the Gryffindor trio chatting excitedly. Hermione whirled on the spot, noticed the badge in my hands, and yelped with excitement.

"Us, too! Me and Ron!" she cried.

"Oh don't act like you're suddenly all right with it," Ron snapped, turning to me. "She was saying she thought it'd be Harry just before you walked in."

"Well, congratulations to you both," I said graciously, looking past them to Harry. "And you," I said with a smirk. "Looks like you have a new Seeker battling against you for the Quidditch Cup."

"No!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "That's brilliant! But wait, what about Cho Chang?" The light faded quickly from his eyes.

I glanced down at the letter. "Sounds like she's still getting over Cedric's death from last term. They were dating at the time, I remember."

"Oh," Harry said softly.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room, and upon hearing the news that Ron, Hermione, and I had been selected as prefects, immediately began babbling about plans for a party that evening. She was talking at top speed, and I could hardly follow her train of thought as it jumped from banners to food to presents. I found myself being guided out of the room by her firm grip on my shoulder, saying something about not being familiar with Ravenclaw House and needing my help with…something.

Soon, we were down in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley still speaking rapidly. Only when the door was closed did she cease her ramblings and speak in hushed tones.

"There's someone here to see you, Sam. I didn't want the others to know, though, because, well…" she trailed off.

I craned my neck around the woman to find Professor Snape seated at the kitchen table. Alone. Mrs. Weasley bustled off into the pantry, the sounds of various items being removed from their shelves carrying across the room.

Feeling incredibly awkward, but grateful that Mrs. Weasley hadn't announced to the surplus of Gryffindor students that the Head of Slytherin House was here to see me, I crossed over to the chair opposite the professor and sat down in silence.

Snape didn't speak straight away. I waited patiently, listening to Mrs. Weasley list off ingredients in the other room. I had a hunch as to what Snape was going to tell me, and I wasn't eager to hear it. I still didn't know how he knew my mother, only that she had probably demanded that I come home after seeing me this morning. I tried not to grimace at the thought of going back.

"Your mother contacted me earlier this afternoon," Snape began. "She—"

"—wants me to come home," I finished with a sigh.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

A brief silence fell, and I suddenly found the tabletop most intriguing. I closed my eyes as though it would make the situation go away. I couldn't go back there, not after what she had said.

Snape suddenly rose from his seat, throwing his travel cloak about his shoulders.

"I took the liberty of collecting your belongings while Cassandra was still at work," he said quickly, sweeping from the room.

I whirled in my chair to spot my trunk propped up in the corner of the room, the very trunk I had left behind when I had left home.

My brain jammed.

I leapt up, nearly ran to it, and flipped it open. Right on top were two very important items: my broomstick and—I stared hard—my guitar. My guitar, but without the crack in it from when Mother had tossed it onto the floor. My guitar, newly repaired.

There was a hard lump in my throat. A hazy memory of Snape half-carrying me to the hospital wing last term flashed through my mind. I blushed hard as I recalled that I had completely broken down in front of the man, that he had seen me at my absolute weakest.

Perhaps this was his own weird way of saying he wouldn't bring it up without actually being upfront about it.

Damn Slytherins.

Next thing I knew, I was pelting for the front door. I hurled myself from the house and onto the street, ignoring the fact that I wasn't wearing shoes. I ran straight out into the street, eyes peeled for the dark-haired professor, oblivious to the fact that I had no idea what I would even say to him.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at absolutely nothing. My mind felt entirely blank, not a single formed thought to be found. I felt numb. So much had happened today. Too much.

"Samantha?" came a gruff voice in my ear.

I nearly leapt out of my skin, my mind slamming back into reality as I recognised Moody's gruff tones. Stiff as a board, I turned to face him.

"It's Sam," I managed to say.

"Sam. What are you doing out here?"

"Oh. Er—nothing," I stammered, my brain struggling to piece everything back together in order to formulate a proper sentence. It wasn't working.

"Listen," Moody said quietly. "Harry was telling me about what my imposter did to you and...well…" he spoke slowly, shifting uncomfortably. "I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry for what he did. You're fifteen, and you certainly didn't deserve any of that. I know it must be hard for you to look at me, but...I just don't want you to judge me for what I look like."

My eyes had become impossibly wide as he spoke. Merlin, I thought, why did that not cross my mind? He never did anything wrong, after all.

As impossible as it was to look him in the eye, I forced myself to do just that. With a gulp, I tried to say something. After several false starts, I succeeded. "I appreciate that. And...I'm sorry, too."

Moody nodded, then gestured to the house. Together, we went back inside. "I do believe Molly has quite a party planned, despite the boggart in the drawing room. Congratulations on being made prefect."

"Thank you, sir," I said, coming to the conclusion that word spread extraordinarily fast in the Wizarding world, and vaguely surprised to hear that a boggart had made it in the house.

"Sam! Dear, could you help me with this?" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. And with a still-baffled mindset, I ambled in and began following her instructions without thought.

However, when the party started, the stimulation of a house full of people celebrating seemed to overwhelm my senses. People I didn't know were shaking my hand and asking me a series of questions about my life that I honestly didn't want to answer. So after some time, I slipped upstairs and away from the horde of guests.

I trudged up the flights of stairs feeling more exhausted than I could ever remember. The hearing, running into Mother, becoming prefect, making the Quidditch team, Snape bringing me my trunk, getting an apology from Moody…if I didn't know better, I would have said all that could never happen in a single day.

When I reached the first floor landing, I heard sobbing from the drawing room. Startled, I poked my head in to find Mrs. Weasley on the floor, sobbing hysterically over a dead body with flaming red hair.

"Riddikulus!" she cried, her wand hand shaking. With a crack, the body became Harry. With a jolt, I realised this must be the boggart Moody had mentioned.

After her repeated failed attempts at getting rid of the boggart, I dashed over to the woman. I thought briefly of ridding the house of the boggart myself, but then thought better of it. I didn't need another hearing. Surely they'd expel me then.

"Come on, Mrs. Weasley, let's get out of here. Someone else can deal with it," I urged her. I pulled her away, but she kept crawling back. So instead, I stepped in front of her and began backing out of the room. "Help!" I called down the stairs.

The dead-body-boggart lifted its head and stared at me. With another loud crack, Barty Crouch Jr. was there, stalking toward me with a mad glint in his eye. I could see the raw determination in his eyes as he reached out for me. His hand grazed my neck.

With a war-like cry, I punched the boggart hard in the face.

It reeled backward, and I used the space to turn and call down the stairs again. "Help! Boggart!"

"Riddikulus, Riddikulus, Riddikulus!" Mrs. Weasley cried repeatedly, pointing her wand over my shoulder in one last feeble attempt as footsteps came pounding up the steps.

Crack. Mother. Crack. Snape. Crack. Moody. Each one leered at me, struggling to get close to me again, to hurt me. But Lupin came bursting into the room, destroying the boggart just as it transformed into a silvery orb.

"Remus!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Oh, thank you." Next second, she was sobbing into Lupin's shoulder as Lupin did his best to console her.

I used the distraction to slip back out into the corridor and spring up the last flights of stairs to Ginny and Hermione's room. I flung myself on the bed, absolutely refusing to let anything else happen on this day. Minutes later, I fell into a deep sleep.

—

Days later, I found myself seated in the prefects carriage on the Hogwarts Express, thrilled to be returning to Hogwarts. All my essentials had been tucked away in my trunk, right down to the birthday cards I had received last spring from friends tucked away in some of my books. There had been just enough room for my new textbooks, too.

I glanced around the prefects carriage as the train pulled away from the station, noting all the new fifth year prefects. Of course, Ron and Hermione represented Gryffindor. Ernie McMillan and Hannah Abbot were representing Hufflepuff, with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson representing Slytherin. Anthony Goldstein slipped in last minute, grabbing the seat beside me with a huge smile.

"I knew it would be you," my Housemate said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Hey Anthony, how were your holidays?"

"Good, good. Pretty boring though. You?"

"Crazy," I said, shaking my head. But the conversation ended there as the Head Boy and Girl began addressing the fifth-, sixth-, and seventh-year prefects as the train rode smoothly toward Hogwarts.


	6. Change

The first day of classes proved to be absolutely riddled with homework assignments. It was, of course, O.W.L.s year for the fifth-years, but that didn't make receiving the excessive amount of work any easier. And from what I heard from other fifth-years, there was much more to come in the following days.

As I sat down to Defence Against the Dark Arts, I recalled my first encounter with last year's Defence teacher: the imposter Moody. With an unpleasant smirk, I realised that I had hexed the man who had ruined my life that day. This year, however, I saw a woman from the hearing last month stride up to the front of the classroom.

I frowned, recalling her queer questions from the hearing, and feeling unsettled by her presence as the new professor.

"Is this seat taken?" came a familiar voice.

Turning, I saw several Gryffindors entering the classroom, lead by Harry Potter.

"Nope!" I said happily, grinning as Harry seated himself next to me, vividly recalling when we had met last year in Transfiguration class.

"Good afternoon!" came a disgustingly cheery voice from the front of the classroom. I stared at Professor Umbridge as a few people mumbled a return greeting. Her voice was sickening, and I couldn't help the grimace on my face as she instructed us to put our wands away in order to take notes.

I pulled out my textbook and flipped it open to the first chapter. The language was so terribly dull. I flipped back to the table of contents and read through the chapter titles. I frowned. I tossed the cover of the book back to read the title again: Defensive Magical Theory. Magical theory. Theory.

Umbridge spoke, distracting me from my thoughts. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

I spotted Hermione out of the corner of my eye lowering her hand from the air as Umbridge spoke to her. "Not about the chapter, no," she replied. "I have a query about your course aims."

That's when it hit me. I shut my book and turned to face Hermione.

"The course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge said in her high voice.

"Well I don't think so," Hermione said bluntly. I grinned, catching on. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

Umbridge laughed. "Why would you need to use defensive spells in my classroom?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed, triggering a ripple of muttered responses from our fellow classmates. I listened to the chorus of voices, thinking Umbridge would surely back down.

I was mistaken.

"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—" she was saying.

"What use is that?" Harry said loudly beside me. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free! How are we supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There's nothing waiting 'out there,' Mr. Potter. Who would want to attack children such as yourselves?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe…Lord Voldemort?"

A ripple of responses flew across the classroom, including a loud thump as Neville fell to the floor.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Umbridge leaned forward in her seat primly. "The rumour that a certain Dark wizard has been reborn is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!" Harry shouted.

"Detention!" Umbridge cried triumphantly.

When Harry continued to argue, Umbridge scribbled a note onto a pink piece of paper and thrust it into his hands.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall," she said sweetly. "Now."

"Excuse me, Professor," I said softly, my voice carrying through the ringing silence as Harry rose slowly to his feet. "But I feel I must point out that whether or not this certain Dark wizard has returned to power, the mere fact that there is a rumour has the potential to spread to Voldemort's former followers. This makes them just as much of a threat, with or without their leader. Last year's incident at the Quidditch World Cup is a prime example, is it not? They are just as capable of wreaking havoc on the Wizarding world, giving us a strong need to be able to defend ourselves."

Umbridge wasn't looking at me. Then, to my utter annoyance, spoke as though I hadn't said a word.

"What are you still doing here, Mr Potter?"

Harry grunted angrily and stormed from the room.

"Return to your reading. There will be no more questions," the woman said with a tone of finality. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see nearly every pair of eyes fixated on me. I could feel my irritation bubbling just beneath my calm exterior. I certainly couldn't hex the horrid woman, not without provocation. So when Umbridge raised her own textbook in front of her face and buried herself in the reading, I shook my head slowly and opened my book once more.

—

The rest of the week was filled with whispers about Harry's confrontation with the new Defence professor. While I was pleased that it hadn't been I who'd angered the foul woman, I hadn't gotten in any trouble last year. Meanwhile, Harry was receiving nightly detentions from Umbridge doing Merlin-knows-what.

I strolled into the Potions classroom with Anthony, who was babbling on about some confrontation he had with a Slyterhin as his first act as prefect. And when I went to take a seat next to my Housemate, someone grabbed my arm.

"Oh no you don't," came a familiar voice as Justin Finch-Fletchley dragged me over to his table. Justin had been my Potions partner last year, and apparently the Hufflepuff couldn't stand to have it any other way this year.

I threw my head back and laughed as he forced me down into the seat next to his.

"That's better," he said with a nod.

"I'm glad," I replied, still smiling.

Justin looked like he was going to reply, but his mouth snapped shut as his eyes flickered to something over my shoulder. I twisted in my seat to see Professor Snape striding purposefully into the classroom, eyes front. He didn't turn to face the class until he had waved his wand to reveal a blackboard jammed with notes on moonstones and their uses in Potionmaking.

Justin groaned quietly. I smirked.

"Silence. Write. Then prove to me you understood what you're mindlessly copying and show me how to incorporate moonstones into a potion you learned from last year. Go."

Snape glared at the class at large until the shuffling of parchment and quills assured him they were listening.

I followed suit, scribbling my notes intently onto a fresh piece of parchment. Justin was staring openly at the blackboard as though it had been written on in another language.

"What. The. Actual. F—"

"Justin," I whispered. "I'll help you later. Just write it down!"

The boy finally began to write, his actions thankfully unnoticed by the Potions master, who was on the other side of the room breathing down Anthony's neck as he worked.

At last, I put my quill down and hurried over to the Potions stores. I was the first one done writing, so I ducked into the mercifully empty cupboard and hunted down my ingredients without interruption. I racked my brain for what potions we had brewed last year that would be positively affected by the additions of moonstones. Lifting several ingredients, I realised how potentially dangerous this assignment was, because some of the potions would certainly not end well if mixed with moonstones.

The session was drawing to an end when Snape called them to halt their actions. To Justin's utter horror, Snape asked that each student individually insert the moonstone into their potion to demonstrate their understanding of the lesson. A quick glance into Justin's cauldron made me decide to duck when it was his turn.

The potion splattered magnificently, and I only just had time to cast a stasis charm on my own to protect it from the small explosion beside it.

Then, with Hufflepuff having fifteen less points than it had just two minutes earlier, it was my turn.

I pulled myself upright from my crouched position half beneath the table to find that Justin had potion splatters all down his robes. I threw him an apologetic look before inserting a moonstone into my own.

The potion did exactly what I expected to: it flared a brilliant silver, bubbles rising to pop harmlessly above the surface of the cauldron. I grinned.

"Next," Snape barked, moving to the next table.

I stared after the professor as he turned his back on my work. Just like last year, I realised, as though nothing had changed: Snape was taking a firm stance on ignoring all my efforts in his class. Lovely.

As I made my way to the Great Hall with Justin afterward, I realised I really shouldn't have been so surprised. What had I been expecting, anyway?

The next week was much the same, and I decided to shrug it off. Same old, same old.

But what wasn't "same old" was what I read in the Daily Prophet one morning: Umbridge had been made "high inquisitor" of Hogwarts?

"What the hell?" I murmured around my toast.

The Prophet was snatched roughly out of my hands and I found myself staring at the nose of one Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

Still frozen in the position I had been reading the article in, I flicked my eyes up at the boy glaring down at me. "Hey."

Roger heaved an exasperated sigh. "You didn't read the bulletin, did you?"

Still without moving, I swallowed the bit of toast that was still at my lips. "Nooo…" I said slowly.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" the boy cried. "Umbridge is disbanding all the teams at Hogwarts!"

I stared at him. "What, Quidditch too?"

"Yeah!" he ejaculated.

I leapt to my feet, toast falling to my plate. "Oh no she didn't."

"Oh yes she did. We have to go and ask for permission from her!"

"To play Quidditch?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah!"

"This is ridiculous!"

"You're telling me."

I frowned. "Well, we're going to have to ask whether we like it or not. But really, Quidditch?"

"So are you coming?"

"Coming where?"

"With me to talk to Umbridge, of course!"

"Oh, is that why you're all hyper and on edge?"

"I'm not—!" Roger inhaled deeply and abruptly. "Right, ok, let's go." And we set off from the Great Hall.

"Have you made your decision on who'll be joining the team from the try-outs?"

Roger smirked. "Yeah, I thought I'd just make them sweat it out a bit more."

I rolled my eyes. "Classy."

"Besides, ever since Gryffindor announced their new Keeper, I haven't been too worried. Plus that Ackerly kid flies like he's going into battle. He'll make an excellent addition to the team."

"Who's Gryffindor's new Keeper?" I asked, smiling widely as I tucked away the information that Stewart had made the team.

"Ron Weasley."

"Oh, good for him!" I said happily.

"Good for us, actually. You didn't go to the try-outs did you?"

"Why would I? They were for Gryffindor House."

It was Roger's turn to roll his eyes. "To spy on them, of course!"

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" I said sarcastically. "Roger, you know that's cheating."

He scoffed. "Everyone does it."

"So that makes it all right?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, lifting a hand to knock on the door to the office we had just arrived in front of.

"I thought you were friends with Potter," Roger said as we waited. "Didn't he tell you about Weasley?"

I shook my head. "Haven't seen him since the start of term, except for classes. He looks like he's been pretty busy."

"Pity. Could have used you to spy on Gryffindor a bit more."

I opened my mouth to tell Roger quite firmly that I would most certainly not do such a thing when the door to the office swung open to reveal a smug-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Have a nice day, Professor," he said smoothly over his shoulder as he departed. He then rounded on us, his voice low and menacing. "Good luck, you two. I hear she's still debating on whether to let Gryffindor's team re-band."

With a chuckle, he left.

"Git," Roger said as he stepped through to Umbridge's ofice. "Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning Mr. Davies," Umbridge replied, but I wasn't listening.

Her office was the most sickening shade of pink I had ever laid my eyes on. Everything was covered with frills and pictures of cats. This woman was ten times worse than that Mrs. Figg, I decided.

"How can I help you?"

"We'd like permission to re-band the Ravenclaw Quidditch team," Roger said shortly.

"Are you the captain?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes."

"Then who is this?" she asked, gesturing to me."

"My Seeker," he said, frowning at the question.

"I was under the impression the Ravenclaw Seeker was a girl named Cho Change," she said mildly, flipping through some papers on her desk.

"Cho resigned her position," I supplied. "She and Roger had a chance to see me fly last year and decided I would make a good replacement for her."

"Did they now?"

"Yes," Roger said stiffly, clearly not liking how unnecessarily drawn out this was becoming. He shifted impatiently. "Dumbledore approved it as well."

"Did he?" Umbridge asked, and I wondered if she was ever going to make an actual statement rather than bouncing our words back as questions. "Very well. I suppose that will do for now."

It was a clear dismissal, but I wasn't having it with all the vagueness.

"So can we have our team back?" I asked flatly.

Umbridge eyed me for a long moment, and I found myself suppressing a shiver. I really didn't like this woman. Or maybe it was just the pink room throwing me off. Either way, I wanted to get away from this part of the castle entirely.

"You may," she said, then turned back to her paperwork as though we weren't there.

"Good," I said, turning on my heel and exiting, Roger right behind me. I heard the papers behind me pause their shuffling as I shut the door a little more firmly than necessary. "What a bitch," I whispered.

Roger nodded. "What was Dumbledore thinking, hiring her?"

"I'm starting to wonder if he even had a choice," I said slowly. "If she's being made high inquisitor, which has never been done before, I wonder what else the Ministry has up its sleeve."


	7. Chains

Each week following was filled with talk about Umbridge as High Inquisitor and her actions by sitting in on various classes to decide whether or not teachers were up to par on Ministry standard teaching habits. She apparently was very keen on seeing the teaching habits for those instructing the OWL students, as I kept running into her outside of her own classroom.

"No," I said to Justin was we exited the Great Hall on our way to Charms. "The reason your potion splattered was because moonstones can't possibly be combined with such a volatile substance as—" I was saying when an extremely unwelcome "Hem, hem," sounded nearby. I couldn't help but cut off my sentence and look round.

Oh, this has to be good, I thought as I saw Umbridge dashing after a fast-moving Snape toward the dungeon corridors.

"Hello, Severus," Umbridge said sweetly as she caught up. "You received my notice about joining your class today?"

Snape stopped in his tracks, clearly unhappy with being approached by the woman.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

"Volatile substance as what?" Justin asked from a few paces ahead, frowning as he noticed me eavesdropping. I waved him quiet. He grinned as he spotted what I had noticed, and he rejoined me to make it look like we were just standing around chatting. I thanked him with a nod.

"I know it's a bit abnormal," Umbridge was saying, "but I was wondering if you might do a demonstration with your OWL students. Perhaps, your best and worst students could be tested to show the range of abilities in the classroom?"

Snape stiffened. "If you insist."

"Excellent. I believe it's Gyffindors and Slytherins today, yes?"

Snape stared down at her. "Yes. But my best OWL student isn't in either of those Houses."

"Ah, well, by all means, invite them to join us," Umbridge said easily, making a note on her pink clipboard.

Snape continued to stare at her, then, raising his voice without actually moving: "Come along, Evans."

"Shit," I swore, jolting as I realised he knew I had been eavesdropping.

Justin, less discreetly, ran for his life. I hung my head in exasperation.

Snape was sweeping down into the dungeons, his black cloak whipping around the corner as I looked up to find Umbridge gazing steadily at me from down the corridor. I winced, then trudged past her and after the Potions master.

I entered the Potions classroom, Umbridge just behind me, feeling extraordinarily embarrassed. But Snape seemed to have completely forgotten that I was there as he took his place at the front of his classroom and began lecturing.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend—instructions—" he waved his wand "are on the board. Carry on"

I stood around awkwardly before anyone noticed I was there.

"Sam," Hermione whispered. "What are you doing here?"

I looked over at Snape, who was bending over someone potion on the other side of the room. Figuring he wasn't about to give me directions, I crossed over to the Gryffindor table.

"I've been, er, invited," I said uncertainly.

"Er, all right. Well, we can make room for you here.

"Thanks," I said, dropping my bag and going to collect my potion from the Ravenclaw shelves. I set up shop between Ron and Neville and got to work.

Hermione kept grabbing Harry's wrist to prevent him from adding improper ingredients. With a frown, I leaned across toward Harry. "What's up?"

"I want to see how this plays out," he said, eyes fixated on Umbridge and Snape.

I laughed quietly. "We are so related."

Umbridge got to her feet finally, and made her way over to Snape. "Hah," Harry muttered.

"The class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said…to Snape's back. I smirked. "Though I question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

I stopped smirking as Snape straightened slowly and turned to face her.

"So how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, quill poised to write.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied, his expression making me cringe. My cringe turned to a shudder as Harry added a few drops of something into his potion and it, hissing, turned a flaming shade of orange.

"Harry!" I cried softly, whipping out my wand and putting a stasis charm on his cauldron as its contents erupted upward toward the ceiling. It froze, a column of orange catastrophe.

Umbridge and Snape turned at the commotion, and I stowed my wand hastily away. Thankfully, Umbridge continued the conversation.

"We'll come back to that demonstration later," she said smoothly. "Now, you applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?"

"Yes," Snape said quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

I bit my lip. Really, that was her question? Was she trying to make him angry?

Snape's lip curled, as though in response to my thoughts.

"Obviously."

Ron sniggered. I jabbed an elbow in his side as Snape turned yet again to face our table. And when Umbridge turned away and began speaking with a table of Slytherins on their view of the lesson, Snape smacked Ron sound on the head with the parchment in his hand. I winced.

"Now then!" Umbridge said happily, straightening up. "How about that demonstration?"

"Well, it seems Mr. Potter here has already volunteered himself to represent the lower end of talent in my classroom," Snape sneered, nodding toward the column of solidified orange potion rising from Harry's cauldron. Harry flushed.

"And Miss Evans was able to stop the potion from harming anyone, I see," said Umbridge.

"Indeed," Snape said shortly.

He wasn't looking at me. I wanted so badly to ask him why sometimes I was important and the rest of the time I was a nondescript part of the wall he happened to be walking past. No other professor baffled me as much as this one did. And how in the name of Merlin did he know my mother?

"Miss Evans, how did you know how to stop the reaction?" Umbridge asked, lifting her quill.

I shrugged. "It's just a basic stasis charm. I saw Harry add pomegranate juice instead of salamander blood, which undoes the reactionary properties of the other ingredients."

Umbridge glanced at Snape, who nodded after a moment.

"Excellent. Did anyone else here know that?" the woman said softly, glancing around. Only two people raised their hands: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. "I see. And Mr. Potter, why did you add the pomegranate juice rather than the…salamander blood, was it?"

Harry was a deep shade of red, and I felt horrible. He shook his head. "I wasn't paying attention."

"No marks again, then," Snape said, waving his wand. The column of orange disappeared as the bell rang in the distance. "Class dismissed."

Harry was grumbling under his breath as he, Ron, and Hermione took off for the door.

"At least it wasn't me," I heard Neville say quietly to no one in particular before he departed.

"Thank you very much, Miss Evans," came Umbridge's voice. Startled, I whirled on the spot to face the woman dressed so terrifyingly in pink. "I'll notify Professor Flitwick of the reasons for your absence from his class today."

"Er—thanks," I said, and watched as the woman marched happily from the room, still scratching on her clipboard.

The silence that fell after her departure made me realise that the classroom was empty. Blindly grabbing my bag, I booked it for the door, not wanting to see whatever baffling expression the Potions master had on his face.

Several weeks later, Luna, Stewart, and I made our way down to the Quidditch pitch for the first match of the year: Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Luna had dressed up spectacularly for the occasion with an enormous headdress in the shape of a lion to represent the Gryffindor mascot. Stewart couldn't seem to take his eyes off it as they walked, and I had to stop him from running into other people more than once. He, too, was supporting Gryffindor, but with just a small scarlet and gold pin on his Ravenclaw scarf, nothing more.

Once more, I had to steer Stewart clear of a potential collision. Stewart threw an apology over his shoulder to the person he had nearly mowed over.

"That's all—oh, hey Sam!"

"Terence!' I said happily. "I'm so glad you came! I didn't think—" I stopped myself, but the unfinished sentence was clearly received by my Slytherin friend.

Terence Higgs had been the Slytherin Seeker until Draco Malfoy had replaced him solely because of the fact that Mr. Malfoy had purchased the entire team the latest model of broomsticks at the time.

"Yeah, well, I heard it was supposed to be an interesting match," he replied cooly, eyeing Luna and Stewart's Gryffindor regalia. I saw him give me a once over, noticing that I was wearing only Ravenclaw colours. A tiny smile touched his lips.

"Shall we?" I said graciously, gesturing to the pitch, and the four of us strolled inside.

The pitch was divided neatly in half: a hissing sea emerald and silver opposed by a writhing mass of screaming scarlet and gold.

"Blimey," Terence said quietly. "You'd think it was the match to end all matches."

"Sam, are you coming?" Stewart asked, hanging awkwardly between me and a Luna who was skipping happily ahead to the Gryffindor side of the stadium.

I looked up at Terence, then back at Stewart.

"You go on, Stewart. Can't leave this one to traverse the Slytherin seas alone," I said, keeping my tone light.

Stewart shrugged. "Your funeral."

I laughed. "I'll see you later in the common room."

Stewart waved, then made a bee-line for the enormous lion that inevitably had Luna hunched underneath.

"Thanks," Terence said softly.

"I'd say, 'any time,' but if it were Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw and I wasn't on the team, you'd be so on your own."

"You're on the team?" Terence asked, surprised.

"Oh! I thought I told you! Yeah, I'm the new Seeker."

"Congrats, Sam!" Terence exclaimed, throwing an arm around my shoulders in a side hug, and together we entered made our way into the Slytherin side of the pitch. "Malfoy's in for a huge surprise."

The players flew out like bullets, each one with a look a fierce competition in their eyes. This was the ultimate rivalry in the school, so I could understand why. Even Ravenclaw was getting into a spirit of competition, seeing as our House had never done very well when it came to Quidditch. One Hufflepuff had come to a practice and shouted, "Hey look, the nerds are trying to play outside!" before walking away to howls of laughter.

True, we were the House of intellect and wisdom, but that didn't mean we were going to slack off when it came to sports. Roger was driving us like crazy, drilling us repeatedly until we were too exhausted even to complain. Even Cho, who had come to the first practice to see the new team, said she couldn't remember a more intense practice.

But Roger hadn't been wrong about Stewart: he did fly like he was going into battle. He had clearly been practicing over the summer as he out-played every single other potential team member that showed up to try-outs. And at the first practice, he had no trouble getting into the swing of things as he melted easily into sync with the two older Chasers. So impressed was Roger by his talent that he had given Stewart his place as Chaser and took up the position of Keeper, a spot which had had an abysmal turn out for candidates.

But seeing the determination with which Gryffindor and Slytherin took the pitch suddenly made me feel as though we hadn't done much to prepare. Angelina Johnson and Graham Montague shook hands roughly, then shot away from each other to take their places. Madame Hooch hurled the Quaffle into the air, and thus began the fierce battle for superiority.

The Slytherins were singing. The song was buried beneath the roars from the other side of the stadium, but it built until everyone quieted to hear what they were saying:

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

"Oh hell," I whispered, glancing sideways at Terence. The boy was frowning, certainly not singing, but also not making any move to retort. Figuring that was fair enough, I turned back to the pitch.

Ron, hovering awkwardly in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, was turning all shades of red to match his hair. I sighed. I could see it, even from all the way over here. I was pressed up against the front of the rows, a Slytherin banner hanging over the edge in front of me as I watched the match. The Slytherin Keeper was grinning ridiculously, occasionally turning around to conduct his Housemates when the Quaffle was on the other side of the pitch.

Weasley was born in a bin

He always lets the Quaffle in

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our King.

"I'm sorry," Terence said in my ear.

I shrugged. "It's not like they're doing anything wrong."

"I know, but still. It's not…nice."

I snorted. "I wasn't expecting kindness from this lot," I said honestly. "Not at a match like this."

As though in response to my words, the Slytherins erupted in cheers as a Slytherin Chaser scored against Ron. And when the cheers faded, the singing only grew louder.

Slytherin continued to pound Gryffindor, much to the dismay of the students on the other side of the pitch. The sounds of the announcer were being drowned out by the noise around me. I leaned forward over the side of the pitch, wanting desperately to give Ron some encouragement.

That's when I saw it. "There!" I shouted, pointing, the tiny Snitch flickering just below me. And just seconds after my exclamation, Harry and Draco went tearing toward me, flat on their brooms in an attempt to out-fly each other. They were both reaching, looks of pure concentration etched on their faces.

I gasped as Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, Draco's fingers touching only Harry's skin as he attempted to do the same. The Gryffindor end of the pitch exploded in noise, the Slytherins cutting off their singing to stare brokenly at their loss.

"Harry, look out!" I screamed as I saw Crabbe knocking a Bludger his way. But the nasty thing hit Harry squarely in the small of the back, and he was hurled from his broom. He fell the final several feet to the ground, landing hard on his back.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" I heard Terence say. That's when I realised I was clambering over the edge and down into the pitch. I used the Slytherin banner to slide down to the ground, then ran the few meters to where Harry was lying.

The Gryffindor players were just flying over as I knelt next to my cousin. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't think so," he replied gruffly, accepting my assistance in getting him back to his feet.I brushed off the shoulders of his uniform. The Snitch was still gripped tightly in his hand.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" came Draco's voice. He had landed next to us looking furious, the sneer contorting on his face. "I've never seen a worse Keeper. Say, did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Harry looked like he wanted to retort, but instead I grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward his approaching team. "Go celebrate," I whispered.

"We wanted to write some other verses," Draco called after Harry, clearly not finished.

I stepped up to the Slytherin boy. "You are such a sore loser, Draco. Just leave it," I said, lifting a hand to stop his words.

"What is it to you?" he spat, trying to get around me. I shook my head disbelievingly. This guy was such a mess. He raised his voice. "We couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly, you know, so we could sing about his mother."

"Draco, stop it," I said harshly, gripping him by the shoulders.

"Or useless loser, either, for his father, you know," Draco continued to yell over my shoulder.

I twisted to see that Fred and George had looks of shock on their faces. I swore under my breath as Draco continued to mock their family. Harry had a hold of George, while Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were holding onto Fred, each twin looking absolutely livid.

Draco was laughing openly now. And with Hooch on the other side of the pitch yelling at Crabbe, there was no one to break things up.

"Draco, stop this now," I said fiercely, turning back to face him. And in the single moment I had taken my eyes off Harry, they had charged.

George slammed into my back, and Draco and I fell hard to the ground, limbs flailing. Harry's fist appeared, sinking deeply into Draco's stomach. George was swearing viciously as he attacked Draco, but Harry was silent as he punched as much of Draco as he could manage.

An elbow caught my eye, a knee finding its way hard into my groin as I struggled to get free. "Stop!" I yelled. "IMPEDIMENTA!"

My wand had been slipped inside my sleeve, requiring only that I raise my arm to produce the spell. Harry and George flew off of Draco and I, soon replaced by Madam Hooch screaming in all our faces.

"What do you think you're doing?" she cried. "I've never seen behaviour like it! To your Head of House, now!"

Harry and George stormed from the pitch, and I stared after them. I had never seen Harry completely lose control like that before. It was rather…disconcerting.

Draco was moaning beside me. I rolled over to check on him, wincing at the movement. His nose was bleeding. I turned my wand on him to remove the blood, but Madame Pomfrey was rushing toward us. I slipped my wand back into my sleeve and fell back onto the grass and breathed.

Pomfrey flitted in and out of my eyesight as I lay there, staring up at the sky. The Gryffindor team had trooped off the field together, but the Slytherins remained, crowded around their injured Seeker. The crowd was slowly dissipating, the pitch becoming mercifully quiet.

I wondered what sort of verbal lashing Harry and George were receiving from McGonnagal. Surely they would be punished for their actions. Draco, on the other hand, would probably be let off by Snape, as no one could prove had had started it.

A sigh flitted from my lips as the clouds passed overhead. My eye twitched painfully as Pomfrey placed practiced hands on my body, her wand glowing slightly. The pain seeped away, and soon she was lifting me to my feet.

"You'll need a salve to put on that bruise," Pomfrey told me as I steadied myself on my feet.

"Sure," I said dully, feeling both physically and emotionally drained. I lifted a hand to my face to feel the swollen skin around my eye. I turned to leave the pitch.

"Not so fast, Miss Evans," came the last voice I wanted to hear right now.

"She had nothing to do with it, Professor Snape," Draco spoke up, still on the ground beside me. I looked down at him, surprised. Snape had much the same expression on his own face.

Snape then glanced at me, studying me, before speaking. "Very well."

I didn't care if that was a dismissal or not, I just turned tail and walked quickly away. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the weekend away.

But outside the Quidditch pitch was a small group of people waiting for me: Terence, Luna, and Stewart were chatting quietly in the shade of the pitch's walls.

"Hey," I muttered as I approached them.

"Blimey, Sam, are you all right?" Terence exclaimed at the sight of what I was certain must be a spectacular bruise spanning the side of my face.

"Yeah, fine."

"You looked very badass sliding down on the Slytherin banner," Luna told me matter-of-factly as Stewart examined my face. I chuckled.

"Thanks, Luna."

That simple statement snapped me out of my numbness, and together we trekked back up to the school, chatting animatedly about the match we had just witnessed.


	8. Plans

The day of the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match finally arrived with a significantly less bang than the previous week's. The crowd was back to its usual spattering of House colours as the team lined up in the entrance to the pitch, dressed with broomsticks in hand.

"You ready?" I said quietly to Stewart. He shifted nervously, but nodded. "Good. It's time to show the school what us new kids can do, yeah?"

"Yeah," Stewart echoed, his slumped shoulders rising slightly. I smiled, adjusted the front of his uniform, then took my place next to the captain.

"Hufflepuff's a strong enough team," Roger said to me, his eyes scanning the pitch. "But from what I've seen, their new Seeker could be their undoing." He turned his gaze my way. "So you make sure you wallop Caldwalder nice and good, you hear?"

"Caldwalder?" I asked. The name sounded awfully familiar…where had I heard it before?

"That's the one. Just do what you've been doing at practices and we should be fine."

"Yes, sir," I said teasingly as we mounted our brooms at Hooch's signal and shot out into the sunlight.

The crowd whooped and cheered as the captains gripped hands and Madame Hooch hurled the Quaffle into the air. I let out a delighted yell when Stewart snagged the Quaffle to begin the game.

But I had work to do. I pulled my gaze away from Stewart, who was weaving in and out of yellow-clad Hufflepuffs, and concentrated on finding the Snitch. What I found instead, however, nearly made me fall off my broom:

Nearby, also doing a circuit of the pitch, was the boy who had assaulted me last year at the Yule Ball.

Caldwalder, I remembered Snape saying his name.

I shivered despite the heat of the sun, forcing myself to remember that he had been cursed into doing what he did, and continued my search for the Snitch.

Meanwhile, the Chasers were keeping the Keepers busy down below, scoring and blocking so frequently that the score was constantly changing. It seemed the only way to win this would be for someone to catch the Snitch for the additional 150 points.

I dodged a stray Bludger during my next circuit, flying a little closer to the crowd than I normally would. I couldn't help but take a glance at who was there: I spotted Cho Chang cheering and waving at me, and Justin looking terribly conflicted as he cheered when Hufflepuff scored. I nearly laughed aloud.

I also spotted Draco Malfoy eyeing me intently as I shot past. But I didn't have time to consider it as the Snitch appeared at the nearby goal posts.

I flattened myself on my broom and tore after the winged ball. A whistling in my ear told me that Caldwalder had joined me in the pursuit.

The Snitch swerved, taking us directly up and through the tangle of other players fighting for the Quaffle. I swerved and dodged, keeping my eyes on the Snitch. It was shooting upward, higher and higher. Caldwalder was beside me now, the two of us quickly figuring out who had the longer arm. And it wasn't me.

Before I gave myself time to consider my options, I bent my knees and used the stirrups of my broomstick to launch myself upward and off my broom. I heard a collective gasp from the crowd below as time seemed to stop at the peak of my jump. My fingers barely closed over the golden ball as I felt gravity take hold of my body again.

The cheering was wild as I managed to snag my broom with my other hand on my way back down to Earth. I pulled it below me and stood on top of it, holding up my prize and shouting my excitement.

"We won!" someone screamed in my ear, and I soon found myself being hugged fiercely by an ecstatic Stewart. I nearly fell off my broom as the rest of the team joined in, starting up the crowd in a chorus of, "E-VANS, E-VANS, E-VANS!"

And in that spectacular moment, it didn't matter that Umbridge was a bitch, or that my latest grades in Transfigurations were barely considered passing, or even that I had nowhere to go for Christmas holidays except back up to Ravenclaw Tower. None of it mattered, because I was too busy living up to Dad's expectations of me as a Quidditch player. That's what mattered.

—

But when Christmas break rolled around, it certainly did seem important that I had nowhere to go. I sat in the common room strumming on my guitar the night before everyone would be leaving wondering what I would do on my own while everyone was gone. It didn't sound like anyone I knew from Ravenclaw would be staying, and I highly doubted anyone else would be sticking around from the other Houses.

"Hey Sam, did Flitwick ever say if you guys would be performing again?" Padma Patil asked from the other side of the common room.

"Nope," I replied. "I hope he does though; I miss it."

There was a murmur of agreement from those who heard our exchange, and I brought up the level of my strumming. I saw some people set aside what they were doing to listen.

But just as I opened my mouth to sing, a scared-looking third-year girl came bolting inside.

"Sam Evans?" she said awkwardly into the silence.

"Yes?" I said, and the girl's eyes fell on me.

"There's a Slytherin outside who wants to talk to you. He said if you don't come out, he'll hex me. He took my bag so I have to go back out."

"How original," I said. "You stay here, I'll get your bag."

"Do you want someone to go with you?" Padma asked seriously, as though my life were in mortal danger.

I chuckled. "I think I can handle it."

The stairwell down from the tower was lit only by the torches as the sun had already set behind the forest. The shadows flickered ominously, which made me laugh. Was life trying to feel spooky?

"You are such an arse, Draco Malfoy," I said calmly as I spotted the lone Slytherin in the corridor below. He hurled the bag toward me, which I caught and threw over my shoulder.

"I figured you'd come alone," he said.

"Well, you've got my attention, so what do you want?"

Draco grimaced, which immediately raised a red flag: clearly whatever he had come to say, he had not come of his own volition.

"I believe I can answer that question," came another voice, and from behind a nearby column, a tall man with long, platinum blonde hair appeared. "Lucius Malfoy," he said grandly. "School governor of this very establishment."

The man was very clearly Draco's father, which baffled me even further. Were all Slytherins this confusing?

"Sam Evans," I replied. "Ravenclaw student of this very establishment."

Mr. Malfoy gave a forced laugh, then went quiet again as he went to stand just behind his son, a hand on his shoulder. "As I understand it, you have now saved my son's life on two separate occasions," he said, not sounding at all pleased by the fact.

I stared at the man, my brain working furiously to figure out where this conversation was going, but I honestly couldn't think of a single reason why Draco's father would have come to Hogwarts to speak to me.

"We have discussed this…predicament, and have decided that such actions cannot go…unrewarded."

The pauses in his sentences unnerved me, but I did my best not to show it. I continued to gaze steadily at Mr. Malfoy, brain still hard at work.

"Do you have plans for the Christmas break?" he asked swiftly.

"No," I said quickly, but not because it was true. The word jumped from my mouth out of sheer surprise of the question I had just been asked.

"Excellent. Then I'm sure you would be able to join us at Malfoy Manor for the duration of the holiday. Perhaps a comfortable stay would be able to, say, even the score?"

My jaw went slack, and I thought back to the end of last year when Harry had said he saw Lucius Malfoy in the graveyard with Voldemort on the night of his return.

"Uh…" I said stupidly, unable to think of a decent reason why not to go without saying, 'sorry, mate, but I don't go for guys who are all pally with Lord Voldy.'

"Wonderful. We look forward to your company," Mr. Malfoy said with a sneer. "Draco, I will see you tomorrow at home." The man turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner.

"It wasn't my idea," Draco said immediately.

"No kidding," I replied. I tore my eyes away from where Mr. Malfoy had disappeared to face Draco, letting go of my concerns. It's not like they were going to hurt me or anything. I wasn't anything valuable to them.

"Right. Well then, our house elf will meet you on the platform at Kings Cross. Don't…don't tell anyone where you're going."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good." And Draco turned to leave.

"Draco," I called after him. He stopped.

"Evans?" he said, turning.

I held out my hand. "It's Sam."

Draco stared at my hand for a long moment before shaking it. "Sam."

"See you."

Draco was silent for a moment longer. "Yeah."

And he, too, disappeared.

The common room was much less full when I returned. I handed the girl her bag and collected my guitar.

"Who was it?" Padma asked clearly looking for gossip.

"I'm going to bed," I said, avoiding her question.

"No fair!" she whined as I dashed up to the girl's dormitory.

She asked me again the next morning, and so I lied.

"Terence Higgs," I said.

"That Slytherin boy you always hang out with?" she asked.

"Yeah." I was jamming clothes and books into a bag as we spoke and ignoring the insinuating tone with which Padma was speaking.

"Where are you off to? I thought you were staying here for break"

"Travelling," I muttered offhandedly. It was a believable excuse, considering my family's history.

"Ooh, where?"

"Paris. Venice. Athens. Wherever."

"On your own?"

"Yup."

"Oh. Well, have fun then."

"You, too."

Down in the entrance hall, students were milling about, waiting for friends before walking down to the platform. I spotted Draco's distinctive hair bobbing up ahead with Pansy latched onto his arm. I started wondering what on earth I was going to do during the upcoming weeks at, what was it Mr. Malfoy had called it, Malfoy Manor. I had packed plenty to keep myself busy, but what if they expected me to be social and fancy, like the wealthy Malfoy family probably did on a daily basis.

More likely, they would do it just to judge me, how I dress, how I behave, how I speak…oh Merlin, what was I doing?

I thought about turning back, about avoiding the situation altogether. And just as the wonderful thought crossed my mind, a hand grabbed my elbow and pulled me along in a happy skip.

"Luna!" I exclaimed as I was forced to jog to keep up.

"Hello Sam!" she replied, oblivious to the looks we were getting.

The severe contrast between Luna and my earlier thoughts made me laugh out loud. Why did I care what the Malfoy family thought of me? They just wanted to wave their money in front of my face in their version of saying thank you for saving their son's life. Again.

And so I decided to join in on Luna's skipping as we made our way to Hogsmeade. We literally hopped onto the train, then resumed skipping to the nearest empty compartment. We leapt inside, fell onto the seats, and laughed giddily. It felt good to just throw away everything and live exclusively in the moment. So good, as I laughed myself hoarse.

"Have you ever seen these before?" Luna asked me, drawing a deck of cards from her bag.

We were alone in the compartment, as no one had dared to enter after our ridiculous display. The train was speeding through the countryside, a very light snow tapping the windows.

I looked at the cards. They had the words Magic: The Gathering on the backs.

"Isn't that a Muggle game?" I asked.

Luna nodded.

"Never played it before."

"Would you like me to teach you?" she asked, extracting yet another deck.

"Why not."

The remainder of the train ride was spent laughing hilariously as we began a seriously bizarre game of Magic, one that I'm sure no Muggle had ever played before.


	9. Manners

I hugged Luna goodbye as we stepped off the train, waving to her father as she dashed toward him. My smile fell slightly as my best friend disappeared into the crowd. I had seriously considered asking to come with her, but she and her father had some sort of trip planned, and I didn't want to intrude.

I scanned the crowd for the house elf that was supposed to be greeting me. Clearly Draco didn't want to be seen with me, which I didn't mind terribly. So when an elf tugged politely on the hem of my shirt, I accepted its offer for transportation to Malfoy Manor without hesitation.

We aparated into the foyer of a terribly elaborate and extensive mansion, and the elf took my bag and coat and disappeared.

"Ah, you must be Miss Evans," came a rather gracious-sounding voice. A woman, also with platinum blonde hair, stepped briskly into the room. "I'm Draco's mother, Narcissa."

"Hello, Narcissa," I said kindly, figuring I'd play nice so long as everyone else did. "Please, call me Sam."

"Sam it is. Do come in. Afternoon tea is ready in the sitting room." She gestured toward the corridor she had just come in from.

Putting my inhibitions aside, I joined her.

The sitting room was just as grande as the foyer, comfortable chairs placed strategically around the room to encourage conversation without getting in the way of anything. The two male Malfoys were already seated and being served tea from another house elf.

"Ah, here she is," Mr. Malfoy said, getting to his feet. "I don't believe I properly introduced myself yesterday. My name is Lucius, and welcome to Malfoy Manor."

I shook his hand feeling slightly stunned. I shook myself mentally, remembering my theory on how they were trying to impress me into forgetting that I had saved their son's life.

"Sam," I replied to Lucius. "Nice to meet you. Hello, Draco."

Draco just nodded, sipping on his tea.

"Please sit," Narcissa said, and with only the slightest of hesitations, I sat to be immediately served tea.

"Thank you," I said to the elf, noting the lifted eyebrows of the three Malfoys. They must not thank their servants then, I figured. Filing that bit of information away, I took a sip of tea.

"Sam, we're so glad you could join us on such late notice. Lucius says you didn't have anything planned for holiday." Narcissa eyed me expectantly.

"Er, no. No, I didn't."

"You weren't going to go home?"

"I'd prefer not to," I said honestly.

"And why is that?"

I sighed. Let the endless stream of questions begin.

"My father's dead and I can't stand being under the same roof as my mother."

Narcissa blinked. "I see. Pity. Cassandra was always such a fascinating woman."

"You know my mother?" I blurted, nearly spilling tea down my front.

"Oh yes, you didn't know?" Narcissa said, looking to her husband.

"We were in school together," Lucius said. "Not in the same year, but we did spend a few years at Hogwarts together."

"I didn't know that," I replied quietly.

"Your mother was very impressive as a student. Draco tells me you're much the same."

"I'm nothing like my mother," I said quickly, eyes flickering to Draco, who was staring down at his plate. "The only thing we have in common is potionmaking."

"I wouldn't go so far," Narcissa said lightly. "You seem to have the same audacity as your mother."

"I—what?"

Narcissa chuckled softly. "The way you speak, that bite you have to your words. That's your mother all over."

"Oh."

"You're like your father as well, though," she added. "Quidditch and music were his strengths. You seem to have collected quite an array of abilities from your parents."

"I suppose," I said, sipping my tea. "But I'm rubbish at other things, too."

"Like what?" Draco blurted suddenly, taking all of us by surprise after having not spoken at all during the conversation.

"Draco," Narcissa scolded.

"No, it's all right," I said, turning to face Draco. "Like certain kinds of wandwork. I can do Charms and Defence and that sort, but whenever I try to transfigure something, it's like magic is foreign to me. I just can't understand how one thing becomes another. And why would I need to do it anyway? I've got what I need. And history! I'm terrible at remembering things if they don't pertain directly to me. Plus Professor Binns is the dullest teacher in Britain."

Draco smirked at that, amused.

"And the only reason I understand Herbology is because I understand Potions and how things interact with each other."

"Well, we all have strengths and weaknesses, don't we?" Lucius said, eyes on his son, who ducked his head.

I made a noncommittal noise and lifted my tea cup to my lips.

"Perhaps it's time for a tour. Draco why don't you show Sam around for a bit, just be back in time for dinner," Narcissa suggested.

Draco didn't particularly look like he wanted to do anything of the sort, but he stood nonetheless. "Yes, Mother." He looked at me. "This way."

Malfoy Manor was more extensive than I had imagined. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever in either direction as we walked. There were lounges and studies and libraries and bedrooms and bathrooms and…Merlin, how big was this place?

"This is my wing," Draco said dully as we left a library that was nearly the size of the one at Hogwarts. My eyes were wide with disbelief, and I knew it, as we turned a new corner to approach a set of closed double doors.

"Merlin," I said aloud as the doors opened. This relatively small corner of the mansion was the size of Mother's house! The entrance room had book shelves and couches and coffee tables. What took me most by surprise was the grand piano in the furthest corner.

"You play piano?" I asked, crossing over to it and touching the keys.

"Mother made me take lessons when I was a kid, and it stuck."

"Terence has tried to teach me a bit. It's such a beautiful instrument."

Draco didn't reply.

"Draco," I said seriously, dropping my hand from the piano. "We're going to have to get over whatever the hell it is that's keeping you from acting normally around me. Your parents invited me here, against both our wishes, but we're here anyway. Seriously, just let it go for once. I'm not going to bite, and I'm not going to blab like the other girls in Ravenclaw."

I couldn't quite read the look on the boy's face, a strange mix of consideration and doubtfulness. And instead of responding, he sat down at the piano.

His slim fingers flitted over the keys as he played, much to my surprise, a song I had written last year and performed with The Four Houses.

Glancing down, I noticed he had left room on the bench for me. I slipped in beside him and began to sing the lyrics softly.

"Oh come on," Draco said, deadpanned. "I know you can sing louder than that." He pounded the keys a little harder in a challenge, which I accepted.

My thoughts flicked back to when I had performed the piece at the Yule Ball, exactly one year ago. It had been a killer performance, one that I would never forget. I couldn't wait to get back together with the band. A conversation with Professor Flitwick was in order upon returning to Hogwarts after the holidays.

When the song was over, Draco and I sat there for a long time in the silence. The setting sun was casting shadows across the room, the lamps seeming to light themselves as the darkness creeped through the windows.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Mhmm."

A loud crack shattered the moment as a house elf aparated into the room.

"Master Malfoy, Mistress Evans, dinner is ready."

And it vanished.

"Shall we?" Draco said, rising quickly.

We made our way back through the manor in silence, and just as we reached the entrance to the dining room he had shown me earlier, Draco extended his elbow toward me.

"Er—?" I said, accepting his arm.

"It's customary for a Malfoy to escort female guests to dinner," he said simply.

"Oh."

The double doors opened grandly to reveal the made-up dinner table. Draco escorted me to one of the seats and pulled out the chair for me.

"Thank you," I mumbled awkwardly, having never been treated so chivalrously in my life. Unless you counted that time my parents and I visited some medieval muggle restaurant in…Germany, was it? I couldn't quite recall. Each guest was escorted to their seat by a host dressed as a knight. I hadn't been able to contain my giggles as the man had introduced himself as Sir Gwaine, one of my favourite bedtime story characters from Merlin-times.

Just as Draco seated himself beside me, the opposite doors opened to reveal Lucius escorting Narcissa into the room.

"Ah, you're both here," Lucius said as he offered Narcissa her seat. "Good. I had a question for you, Sam."

"Yes, sir?" I said, feeling compelled to be on my best behaviour as more elves began setting soup bowls in front of each of us. I had a hunch I was going to be fed better here than I had been fed in my life, role-playing restaurants included.

"Did I see you at the Ministry on August the twelfth?"

"Oh, uh, yes. I was there," I replied, thrown by his question.

"I thought you looked familiar," he said with a smile. "In the Department of Mysteries, I believe it was?" Lucius continued.

I nodded. "Unfortunately, I was there for a disciplinary hearing."

"Oh Sam, what happened?" Narcissa asked kindly, and I was again baffled by the politeness they were showing me. It just wasn't what I pictured for Draco's home life.

"I was attacked by dementors and was forced to use magic to save my life."

"You seem to be saving lives quite a bit," Lucius added.

I chuckled. "I do what I can."

"I'm so sorry you got tangled up with dementors. That seems rather odd," Narcissa said, looking to her husband, and I wondered if they had known about the attack on Harry from other means than the Ministry gossip.

"Yes, indeed," Lucius agreed. "We assure you there are no dementors here."

I chuckled at his rather lame joke as the elves came to exchange our empty bowls for the next course.

"And you were with Harry Potter that day, weren't you?" Lucius continued, tucking into his dish.

"I was, yes. He was there with me when it happened."

"So I take it you are good friends with him?"

I kept a straight face, fighting the urge to frown at his questions.

"I suppose. We're distantly related, but I honestly haven't seen much of him since term started."

"Understandable, considering the differences in Houses."

"I don't know about that," I said as politely as I could manage. "Sure, my best friend is in Ravenclaw, but I also have great friends in Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"Yes, Draco told me you spend a great deal of time with Mr. Terence Higgs, is that right?"

I nodded. "I do."

"Your mother was much the same. If the person was special enough, it didn't matter what House they were in," Narcissa interjected.

"It's true. The House doesn't define the person," I replied, glancing sideways at Draco, who seemed to be concentrating awfully hard on his meal.

The rest of dinner continued to pass in much the same manner, empty questions that made me wonder what they were looking for. The Malfoys didn't seem to be judging me on my speech or behaviour or any of that. No, they were much too interested in my life and what I spent my time doing for that.

I was still mentally shaking my head when we were excused from the table. Draco offered his arm again, which I again accepted.

By now, the sun had fully set, the moonlight filtering through any open windows on our way back to Draco's wing of Malfoy Manor.

"There's a guest suite connected to my wing," he told me civilly. "It should be suitably prepared, but if you need anything…" he hesitated. "You can come to me."

I couldn't help the corners of my mouth twitching slightly with a smile. "Thank you, Draco."

"You're welcome. Sam," he added.

I ducked my head to hide the smile. Maybe Draco Malfoy wasn't as much of a prick as he acted in school. He had, after all, checked on me in the hospital wing more than once last year. He couldn't be completely heartless.

"Here are your rooms," he said, pushing a door open widely to reveal a well-furnished room nicer than any place I had ever stayed during my travels. My bag and coat had been placed neatly beside a beautiful wooden desk in one corner of the wide space.

"Wow," I said breathlessly before dashing over to the bed, leaping and twisting midair to land on my back on the softest bed I had ever known.

I heard Draco chuckle from the doorway, and I raised my head to look at him. He immediately sobered.

Ah, well, one step at a time, I told myself.

"Good night, Sam," he said, moving to close the door behind him.

"Good night, Draco."


	10. Preparations

I awoke abruptly the next morning as though someone had shouted in my ear. I glanced around the room, startled for a moment that I wasn't in my bed in Ravenclaw Tower, before being firmly reminded that I was now in Slytherin territory.

I slipped out of the bed, feet burying themselves in the warm, thick carpet, and padded into the bathroom.

I had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel when a house elf appeared in the doorway back to the bedroom.

"Excuse me, Mistress Evans. Young Master Malfoy sends a message."

"All right," I said encouragingly, running a second towel through my hair.

"Master Malfoy would like you to join him in his rooms when you are ready. He asks that you were appropriate athletic attire."

"Quidditch?" I asked. "Sure, I can do that. Thanks."

"Only ever your servant, Mistress," the elf said with a bow, disapparating. I frowned after it. I wasn't opposed to having servants, exactly, but only if you treated them with respect, and clearly these elves weren't well-respected by their masters.

Dressed and ready, I made my way through the adjoining corridors to Draco's entry rooms. It hadn't been difficult, seeing as the sound of the piano guided me straight to his chambers.

"You seem well versed in my music, Mr. Malfoy," I said teasingly. Draco stopped abruptly, another of my songs coming to a stuttering halt.

"I, uh…I learn by ear. It's not a difficult chord progression," he said, getting to his feet. "Miss Evans."

I chuckled. "So what's the plan. Your elf insinuated that flying was involved in my near future."

Draco nodded. "If you'd like, that is," he added as an afterthought.

"I always like flying, no matter the weather."

"We have self-warming Quidditch cloaks," Draco offered, gesturing to the door.

"Even better."

The open field was the perfect size, the hoops placed precisely as though it were a proper Quidditch pitch. Draco handed me a spare broomstick—a Nimbus 2000, as though that were so old in comparison to his own. With a smile, I lifted into the air and shot around the open area.

The warming cloaks kept the cold out, the bitter wind stinging only the bits of my face it couldn't cover. We hurled the Quaffle back and forth, the occasional kicks and swinging brooms breaking up the monotony of the game of catch as a feather-light snow seemed to hover around us.

The conversation was almost nonexistent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It appeared Draco had loosened up a bit since yesterday, despite the fact that we weren't really talking. And besides, when Draco later let the Snitch loose, there was no room for any chit chat anyway.

We were neck and neck tearing after the winged ball. The snowflakes stung on my face, my eyes watering, but I didn't dare let up. The Snitch gleamed against the snow-kissed ground, maddeningly out of reach as Draco and I imitated its dance around the pitch. I figured this was what it would be like when Ravenclaw played Slytherin at our next match, and I wanted nothing more than to make Draco as uneasy as possible about it as I swerved into him, knocking him out of my path.

"Hey!" he cried, his outstretched arm forced back to the handle of his broomstick as he lost his balance.

I didn't respond as I lunged forward, fingertips closing over the Snitch and pulling it safely into the palm of my hand.

I turned on the spot, a triumphant smirk on my face. Draco was staring wide-eyed at me.

"You play like a guy," Draco said, the words seeming to tumble from his lips without any thought. His wind-stung face flushed an even brighter shade of red.

"Quidditch isn't about playing nice," I retorted, but the smirk-turned-smile belayed the harshness of my words.

"You sound like a Slytherin," Draco said. He appeared to be overcoming his initial shock and sat back on his broom, a hand on his hip.

I laughed. "Just because I'm a Ravenclaw doesn't mean I can't be cunning."

"You're one to talk! You Ravenclaws march around the castle like you're the only ones with brains!"

"Excuse me!" I said, mockingly hurt. "Although last I heard, the top of our class was a Gryffindor."

Draco scowled. "Don't remind me."

I chuckled. "Well, at least we're united in our goal to keep Gryffindor from winning the Quidditch cup."

"Here, here," Draco agreed. "And with Potter off the team, that makes Ravenclaw the biggest threat. You better watch yourself, Evans."

"Duly noted."

"Master Malfoy!" a voice called from below: a house elf waved up at us. We flew down to meet the elf, who shivered violently against the cold. "Mistress Malfoy sends a message."

"What is it?" Draco pressed, sliding off his broom to land softly in the snow.

"Because you and Mistress Evans missed lunch, she'd like you to join her for tea in the library."

"Very well," Draco said, waving the elf away with his hand.

"We played through lunch?" I said, glancing up at the sky: the clouds were so thick, I couldn't tell what time of the day it was whatsoever.

Draco shrugged, trudging over to the broom shed. We stripped off the Quidditch cloaks and returned everything to its rightful place before crossing through the building snowfall and back to Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa was just pouring the tea as we entered the library.

"Ah, perfect timing," she said, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Draco. "I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever come in from the cold!"

We accepted the tea readily, sipping a little too quickly as we realised how famished we were after our workout. Narcissa didn't say anything as Draco and I tried not to appear as though we were wolfing down the entire platter of finger sandwiches.

"Lucius won't be joining us, unfortunately. He had other business to attend to," Narcissa said offhandedly. I focused very hard on not speculating on what business that might be. "But I did want to speak to you two about Christmas eve."

I looked up over the rim of my tea cup, wondering what in the name of Merlin I could do to contribute to such a topic. My mind flooded with a sudden vision of some grand Christmas party filled with Dark wizards and Lord Voldemort shaking mistletoe above his head. I snorted into my tea.

I coughed. "Sorry. Er—what about Christmas eve?"

Besides, all those Dark wizards were in Azkaban, and it appeared Voldemort was keeping a low profile these days. Surely the Malfoy's plans couldn't be too elaborate.

"Well, our usual plans are to keep it within the family. It's usually just the three of us along with Draco's godfather. There's dinner and music and presents. Although we do consider it a formal occasion," she said lightly, glancing down at my clothes.

"Oh. Right." I swallowed. "I'm sure I could make a quick dash to Diagon Alley and pick something up. I'm afraid I didn't pack any dress robes for the holidays."

"That would be lovely," Narcissa said with a sniff. "Draco will escort you."

"I…I appreciate it, but I'm sure I can manage," I said, choosing my words carefully.

"Nonsense. Draco will help you select something…appropriate."

My fingers tightened around my tea cup, but I kept my face carefully blank. "Of course."

"Excellent."

Narcissa set her cup down and swept from the room. I glanced at Draco, who hadn't said a word. I frowned, realising the emerging pattern as he maintained his silence until the door swung shut behind his mother.

"If you want to go alone—" he started.

"Oh, but don't you want us to match, sweetie?" I said, batting my eyelashes. "I hear maroon is the new black."

Draco stared at me for a long moment before his body began to shake. He quivered in his seat, his face growing redder as he was rocked with silent laughter. Finally, a loud chuckle burst from him, and he fell back into his chair, gulping in air. I laughed lightly as I watched Draco compose himself.

"We're not getting anything even remotely close to maroon," he said finally.

"Good. I hate maroon."

The first shop we passed the next day, however, had a maroon "his and hers" matching ensemble on display in the front window. It was a while before either of us could breath properly without breaking down into gales of laughter.

Diagon Alley was overflowing with customers purchasing last-minute Christmas items. Draco and I weaved in and out of the crowd, stopping in several shops I had never even noticed before. They were all very high class, and I found myself fidgeting more than I wanted to in my attempt to seem as though this weren't a totally new experience for me.

"Ah, if it isn't my sweet Draco!" came a girlish voice from behind the counter. A stunning woman with sleek, black hair woven perfectly around her shoulders stepped around and pulled Draco into a long embrace. "It's been ages since you came to see me!"

"Yes, hello Sylvia," Draco said, his teeth clenched as he tried to pull away from the young woman. "It's good to see you, too."

"My, how you've grown! You're becoming quite the handsome man, aren't you? I'm sure you're busy breaking hearts at Hogwarts…" Sylvia trailed off, batting her eyelashes suggestively.

"Not at the moment," Draco said, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. He glanced over at me. I smirked at his helpless expression.

"I'll just be over here," I said, still smirking as I turned away and began perusing the dress robes, bypassing anything with even the slightest hint of maroon.

"Ooh, who's that?" I heard Sylvia say, failing to keep her sudden whisper at a volume that couldn't be detected by the entire store. But I turned my back, shaking my head amusedly.

The moment I was able to tune out their conversation was the same moment that I realised I had no idea what to look for. Narcissa had said formal, but I had no idea how elegant a look they were expecting. I thought of the dress robes I had worn last year at the Yule Ball. Even that might not be up to their standards, which didn't matter anyway seeing as they were locked securely away at Hogwarts.

I brushed gentle fingers across the sinfully soft fabric of a nearby gown. I suddenly hoped desperately that I had enough money to afford this. My family wasn't poor or anything, but the Malfoys were in a wholly different realm of wealth.

"Can I help you find anything?" said a soft voice. An impeccably dressed young man stepped toward me with a bow-like nod of his head.

"If I knew what I was looking for, sure," I said honestly, glancing over to make sure Draco was still quite occupied.

"May I ask the occasion?" he said, following my gaze over to where Draco and Sylvia were still engaged in a rather one-sided conversation. "A Malfoy event, perhaps?"

I nodded, the idea sinking in even further that the Malfoys were a powerful and well-known Wizarding family. "Christmas eve party."

"Of course. Right this way." The young man gestured toward a different area of the store, and I followed him over there.

All the dress robes here were of darker colours, the deepest shades of any colour imaginable. I couldn't help but stare, also, at the extravagant designs, and felt the need to check my coin purse before delving any deeper into this particular shopping experience.

"You have the most exquisite eye colour," the man said, his eyes flicking from my face to the dresses around us as he practically floated through the racks.

"Erm…thanks."

"That makes for an easier selection, especially with such a well-known family with Slytherin roots."

I didn't respond. But the man didn't seem to mind as he touched various dresses, tutting and stealing glances back at my face to make sure he had my eye colour memorised.

"Perfect," I heard him whisper. "Now, to the dressing room with you while I size this."

I don't know how he did it, nor do I particularly care. All I know is that minutes later, I was wearing the most luscious gown I had ever seen, and it fit perfectly. The man, whose name I learned was Quentin, scurried about, adjusting pieces of fabric, slipping jewellery onto various parts of my body, and sliding my feet into a surprisingly comfortable set of heels.

"What do you think?" I heard Quentin ask. I made to answer, but Draco's voice beat me to it.


	11. Yule

"Wow," Draco breathed, just as he had in the shop where we purchased the dress robes.

Christmas eve had arrived swiftly. I had thanked Draco repeatedly ever since he offered to pay for the robes. They were by far the most expensive thing I owned, and I couldn't help the thank-you's that I kept slipping out as I readied for the party that night.

"Seriously, stop saying thank you," Draco said firmly as he clasped his cuff links and fixed his hair in the mirror beside me.

"Sorry."

"It's really not a big deal."

"Of course it is!" I exclaimed. "It was expensive!"

"So?"

"So! So few people can drop money on something like that!" I found myself staring wild-eyed at him as he calmly adjusted his robes. "You should be more grateful."

"Or maybe you should be less finicky."

"Stop being a prat. Can't you tell that you're so lucky to be so well off?" I turned to face him fully, ignoring the necklace that was dangling from my hand.

"It's not like wealth just appeared for the Malfoy family, you know. Someone had to work for this honour."

"And the rest of the world doesn't work just as hard?" I shot back, feeling my anger bubbling to the surface at Draco's apparent lack of interest in the discussion.

"If they did, they could all afford to look decent." Draco fixed his tie.

I had no answer. I mouthed soundlessly at him as I struggled with my sudden desire to strike the boy. How could he be so absolute on the meaning of wealth?

"Is that what Slytherin parents teach their kids?" I finally managed to whisper. "That the rest of us just don't work hard enough? That we aren't just as worthy of wealth as you are?"

"Don't talk about my parents like that!" Draco thundered, his calm demeanour shattering abruptly.

"Then don't talk about mine like they didn't do everything they could when they were alive!" I shouted back.

A house elf aparated into the room. "Master Malfoy, Mistress Evans; the party awaits your presence."

I huffed indignantly, stomping over to the doorway. When I reached out for the doorknob, I noticed the necklace still clutched in my hand.

Before I could move, a pale hand reached out and took the necklace. I felt my hair being swept away from the nape of my neck as Draco clasped the chain into place. I was startled by the gesture, confused even more when Draco brushed past me and into the corridor, leaving me alone in the doorway.

I caught up to the blonde boy just outside the dining hall doors. He wordlessly offered me his arm, and we strode inside to find the room decorated with extravagant Christmas decorations, from ice sculptures that didn't appear to melt to mistletoe that dropped tiny petals that disappeared before they could hit anyone.

I couldn't help but stare around as Draco pulled out my chair for me. I sat, gazing around in awe at how stunning the space looked. Everything was pristine, right down to the silverware and chalices laid out flawlessly on the table. And it was when my eyes finally found the table and its occupants that I froze in my seat.

"Professor Snape!" I yelped.

"Yes, Sam," Lucius said grandly. "Severus is an old friend of mine, and Draco's godfather."

"Oh," I said stupidly, frowning as I fought the sudden blank buzzing in my head. Of course he would be Draco's godfather. That explained why Snape treated him specially, even amongst the other Slytherin students.

"Happy Christmas, everyone!" Narcissa said graciously. "Tuck in!"

I forced myself to focus on the task of eating, but was soon distracted as Lucius began conversing with me.

"Sam, may I say you look quite radiant."

I chuckled nervously. "Thank you, Lucius." I cleared my throat, trying desperately to calm myself so I could concentrate on getting through this evening without embarrassing myself, a task that was proving itself to be near-impossible as I made unwanted eye-contact with the Potions master seated across from me.

Snape looked quite different than usual. His hair wasn't greasy with potions fumes, and he had exchanged his work robes for a very handsome set of dress robes. His hair was pulled back slightly, emphasising the curvature of his face that was so often hidden behind his long hair. He also had a spectacular ring on his right hand, just like the one Draco was wearing, only with a different crest.

I glanced at Draco, who was conversing with Narcissa. He, too, was wearing a handsome set of dress robes, his tie matching my own ensemble. I squinted at his ring, tiny letters becoming clear under my scrutinising gaze: MALFOY.

Family crests, I realised. The benefit to being of an old Wizarding family. The Evans' certainly didn't have one, as my father was of non-magic parents. My mother, however, had never spoken of a family crest, not that I would be willing to sport my mother's crest under any circumstances.

Lucius had a ring identical to Draco's, but Narcissa's ring bore a different seal, one that I could not read from this distance. It appeared to have two names, one of which I felt safe assuming was MALFOY, and the other her maiden name.

When dinner was over, the table and chairs were cleared away. Several soft chairs and love-seats appeared, the lights were dimmed, and music began filtering softly into the room.

"May I have this dance?" Lucius asked Narcissa, and the two began revolving slowly on the spot. Draco and I, however, chose instead to take a seat and sip on whatever it was the elves had laid out on the trays.

"I'm glad you came, Severus," Draco said smartly, tipping his glass toward the man as he sat down in the chair next to us.

"As I do every year, Draco," Snape replied. "Even before you were born."

"Apparently the parties were a huge ordeal back then," Draco said for my benefit, but not quite making eye contact with me. Not that it bothered me, seeing as I was still miffed with him.

"Indeed. But that hasn't kept your parents from making these smaller versions equally extravagant."

"It's impossible to expect any less of them," Draco concurred.

Lucius' loud laughter cut across the conversation; I had noticed him drinking quite a bit through dinner. What had started as a worrisome expression on his face had become a blissfully tipsy mask of enjoyment. And so when he came swaying over to me, I couldn't help but grimace.

"Sssam," he said, drawing out the 's' a little too long. "Would you join me on the dance floor?"

"Of…course," I said uneasily, accepting his hand and allowing myself to be pulled away from my spot on the love-seat. Narcissa sat down gracefully in the place I had just been, waving cheerfully as Lucius spun me and pulled me into his arms.

"Seems such a pity you weren't sorted into Slytherin with Draco. You two could have become good…friends," Lucius said slyly.

I made a noncommittal noise to give myself time to think of a proper response. None came.

"Perhaps they could consider a House-swap. Your mother was a Slytherin, of course."

"I'm quite happy with where I am," I said slowly, not wanting to seem disrespectful of Slytherin House like so many other Hogwarts students were. I thought of Terence, and suddenly wished desperately that he was here. Terence would know how to pull me out of this situation…

"Father?" came Draco's voice.

"Mm?" Lucius replied, stumbling slightly.

"May I cut in?"

"Of course not. This is my dance," Lucius replied, almost pouting. I frowned. Were all Slytherins this confusing?

"I think you should go talk to Severus. He's been meaning to talk to you about…certain plans for January."

"Oh, right, of course," Lucius said, seeming to sober up slightly at Draco's words. He left.

"Thanks," I said, relieved.

"Apparently he used to do this a lot when the parties were bigger; get drunk and flirt with all the women, I mean," Draco said, taking Lucius' spot and continuing my previous revolution about the room.

"That's…awkward," I said honestly.

"Not just awkward for you."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, that can't be easy."

"Well, I know he's been stressed lately. Not that he'll tell me why, mind you." Draco's expression darkened slightly.

"You two don't get along?" I said, my voice bordering between a question and a statement.

"No," Draco said shortly.

I nodded, trying to seem compassionate, but still feeling my irritation from earlier that night bubbling just beneath the surface.

Draco sighed quietly, and I resolved to continue the dance in silence. And despite the tension, the silence still felt more companionable than uncomfortable.

"All right, you two! Presents!" called Narcissa.

Draco dropped his arms, bowed respectfully, and escorted me over to where the adults were seated.

"Of course, actual presents will be tomorrow morning, but we do like to have a small exchange to end the party if you don't mind, Sam."

"Not at all," I said, settling down in one of the chairs. "Although I must confess, I didn't get anything for Professor Snape. I didn't realise he was—"

Narcissa's chuckle stopped me short. "Oh don't worry, dear. Severus doesn't care for gift giving himself. But I'm sure he'll stick around…" she trailed off as Snape moved to rise from his seat.

"Of course," he replied, clearly begrudgingly, settling back in the chair.

The gift exchange was brief, and thankfully not too embarrassing for me. Draco and his parents exchanged small, but clearly expensive gifts, but didn't seem at all disappointed when they opened mine.

"Sam, how sweet!" Narcissa cooed as she lifted the delicate figurine from its box. I had spotted it during the trip to Diagon Alley with Draco and figured she and Lucius would find it…appropriate. It was an intricately designed ornament, its reflective surface hiding the fact that, when examined closely, the entire structure was of one long entwined serpent. It had been mercifully on sale, and had a free engraving option.

"It's also to say thank you for inviting me here and showing me new qualities of Salazar's noble house," I said with a small bow of the head as Narcissa read through the ornament's quote by Salazar Slytherin. The Malfoys had, after all, treated me extremely well without making me feel any less welcome because of my own House affiliations being contrary to that of my mother's. And for some strange reason, I actually appreciate it quite a bit.

When Draco opened his gift, I found myself holding my breath. The keychain inside wasn't particularly flashy; the leather was dark, the design nearly invisible on the surface, of a dragon alternating between positions and breathing fire occasionally.

"A dragon for my little dragon!" Narcissa exclaimed, kissing Draco on the head.

"How did you know my name meant dragon?" Draco asked quietly.

I shrugged. "I read."

To my great surprise, Snape gave out a brief snort of laughter, which he smothered quickly.

"Thank you," Draco said.

"You're welcome." I smiled. Maybe this wasn't as crazy a Christmas as I thought it would be. I trekked back with Draco to his chambers clutching the gifts I had received with remnants of the smile still flitting across my lips. Lucius and Narcissa had presented me with a spectacular wristwatch that told me far more than just the time, and Draco had given me a blank leather-bound journal with a magnificent eagle feather quill.

We had bid each other goodnight after the exchange, Snape turning down repeated invitations to remain at the Manor for Christmas morning, and I soon found myself curled up comfortably in the guest bed feeling that all was well.


	12. Coup

The trip back to Hogwarts found me in possession of far more than I had left with: gifts from Luna, Stewart, Terence, Harry, and many more had barely been able to fit into my rucksack.

Narcissa kissed me on the cheek and embraced me in farewell, and Lucius brushed his lips against my knuckles after we shook hands. Draco, on the other hand, pulled me aside as the house elves readied our things for our departure.

"Listen—" Draco started, but I cut him off.

"You're going to say something along the lines of 'this was great, but we can never speak of it again,' aren't you?" I wasn't angry, and in fact had been expecting it as Draco nodded. "Right then."

"Sorry."

"What?" I said, startled.

"I…I'm sorry things can't be different," Draco said, avoiding my gaze.

I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Maybe one day. But for now, I understand. Now go on, you prat."

Draco snickered as I dropped my hand. "Shut up, Evans."

And those were our last words to each other before we made it back to the castle I called home.

I made a bee-line for Professor Flitwick's office when I returned.

"Enter!" came his squeaky voice.

"Happy Christmas, Professor!" I said happily, setting a bar of chocolate with a bow on top of his desk.

"And you, Miss Evans!" Flitwick replied, immediately opening the chocolate. I smiled. "I have already deduced the reason for your visit."

"I'm not surprised. Any chance we could get the band back together?" I asked, settling down in the seat before his desk. Flitwick handed me a piece of my own chocolate, which I accepted. Then he sighed. "Uh oh."

"I'm afraid I've discussed this at length with Professor Umbridge, and she doesn't seem to find it necessary."

"Necessary?" I frowned. "I don't think any extra-curricular activities are 'necessary,' but they are a great way to bring like-minded students together."

"And I completely agree, but it seems our High Inquisitor thinks otherwise."

I gaped at Flitwick. "And yet she deems Gobstones Club necessary, for example?"

Flitwick sighed again. "I know, Miss Evans, I know. I'm not very happy about it, but it appears her word is final."

I stared at my Head of House for a while longer before rising from my chair. "Well, thanks for trying, Professor."

"My pleasure."

—

"She said what?" Seamus spat at me when I passed along the news.

I sighed. "I know. It's ridiculous."

"Maybe we could talk to Dumbledore."

"He doesn't have that authority anymore," I countered.

Seamus threw his hands into the air. "She's ruining everything!"

"Umbridge?" came a familiar voice; Harry sank down into the seat next to me at Gryffindor table.

"She won't let The Four Houses regroup!" Seamus exclaimed, proceeding to mumble various expletives under his breath.

"Really? Why?" Harry asked, glancing at me as Seamus began running his hands through his hair and looking quite manic.

"She doesn't think it's necessary," I said dully. "Professor Flitwick tried to convince her, but it appears she's made up her mind."

"What about Dumble—"

"He doesn't have a say in the matter," I interrupted. "Happy Christmas, by the way. How come I haven't seen you lately?"

"Oh," said Harry, looking quite thrown by the change in subject. "Been, you know…busy."

"Can't be that much busier than the rest of us."

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me, then," I said, turning to look him fully in the face.

Harry seemed to consider this for a long moment, but the moment was shattered when Hermione appeared, shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet under Harry's nose.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN - MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING POINT' FOR OLD DEATH EATERS, the headline announced.

"What!" Harry cried, launching into the article as Hermione whispered fervently over his shoulder.

I, on the other hand, whirled in my seat and scanned the Slytherin table for a certain blonde boy.

Draco was surrounded by his usual gang, all of them looking as cheerful as Slytherins could without looking stupid. Not a single one of them looked upset…but then again neither did most of the students in the Great Hall. Only the professors seemed to have heard the news.

They knew, I thought. The Malfoys. They had to have known. Merlin, they could be housing the escaped convicts right now! All those shifty moments where Lucius looked like he wasn't saying something…it all made sense now.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Harry sighed deeply, his shoulders shuddering with a weight that seemed beyond his years.

"Harry, you know we can't. She knows too many Slytherins!" Hermione was whispering into Harry's ear before glancing over at me. When she caught my eye, she straightened, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Confused, I watched as she muttered some excuse and dashed from the Great Hall.

"What was that about?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

"Nothing," Harry said immediately, avoiding my gaze. "It's nothing."

"Right," I said, my voice hard. "I'll just head back to my table then." And I left Harry sitting there staring blankly at the newspaper. I had other things to worry about, anyway.

Like the upcoming Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch match.

Once again, the pitch wasn't nearly as divided by two Houses as the Gryffindor/Slytherin match had been, although quite a number of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were sporting Ravenclaw colours. Roger had been drilling us mercilessly since the Hufflepuff match, and so I was rather hoping that we'd put up a good show against Slytherin.

"Watch your back, you hear?" Stewart muttered as he approached me in the locker room. His face was grim.

"Don't look so worried," I said, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. "Just stay focused."

"Yeah."

I ruffled his hair. "You'll do great."

And he did. Once again, Stewart's small frame allowed him to zip in and swipe the Quaffle to start off the game. The Slytherin Chasers just couldn't keep up with him as he weaved in and out of the emerald-clad players and scored Ravenclaw's first goal.

Draco shot past me during my circuit of the pitch. "Don't think you'll take me by surprise this time," he shouted.

"Fool me twice," I shouted over my shoulder. I was so determined to beat him to the Snitch that my knuckles were turning white against my broom handle.

The Slytherin Chasers were putting up a strong front, keeping Slytherin in the lead as the match progressed. But Stewart wasn't having any of it. He kept taking Slytherin by surprise, a team who probably thought no second-year could foil their defences. Win or lose, Stewart was fighting his way toward victory.

More time passed than I felt comfortable with as I continued to scan the pitch for the Golden Snitch. Surely it should have shown itself by now. Draco, too, looked irritated with the lack of its presence.

I wasn't surprised when Stewart was fouled. He took up position in front of the Slytherin Keeper, and if he was shaken by the foul, he wasn't showing it. Merlin, that boy knew how to put his game face on.

Stewart hurled the Quaffle, and it soared beautifully into one of the hoops. Ravenclaw, along with many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs cheered as the Slytherins hissed. On the second toss, Stewart wasn't so lucky as the Keeper snatched it with his fingertips.

And just behind those fingertips…

I shot toward the Slytherin hoops, the Snitch hovering tantalisingly inside one of the hoops. I could see Draco speeding over like an emerald bullet from his side of the pitch as we battled for ownership of the winged ball.

The Snitch didn't even move as we tore over to it, the collection of players hurling themselves out of the way as Draco and I flew recklessly past. The Snitch was still there, right inside the hoop. Our hands were outstretched…

And just as we reached the hoop, Draco swerved into me. My broom jolted beneath me, but I wasn't going to give up as it was pushed in the wrong direction: I leapt up and off my broom, my body still speeding toward the Snitch without any support.

Shocked beyond measure, Draco took his eyes off the Snitch to see me still beside him, the brief moment seeming to stretch out into infinity as I closed my hand over the Snitch.

Draco shot through the hoop, hands empty, as I reached up an arm just in time to catch the side of the hoop to stop my propulsion from flinging me into the crowd. I caught my feet on the bottom of the hoop, righted myself, and simply stood there, inside the hoop, my fist in the air.

The crowd was a wall of pure noise, both supportive and upset as my teammates joined me at the Slytherin hoops. Someone had chased after my broom, apparently, because it was being shoved in my hand as the Ravenclaw team shared a group hug in the air.

"I don't know what the hell you just did, Evans, but it was beautiful!" Roger was shouting in my ear, forcing the grin on my face to spread as my team carried me back to the ground.

The next day, I had been invited by half a dozen different boys to join them for Valentines Day in Hogsmeade.

Not that I went with any of them: no, I fully intended to have a relaxing day with friends. Stewart, Terence and I trudged through the snow to the Three Broomsticks, where we settled down by a roaring fireplace. Luna had claimed she had other plans, something she had been doing increasingly this past year, and so we didn't bother to look for her as we ordered our drinks.

"I can't believe you turned down all those guys, Sam!" Stewart said as one of the potential suitors waved at me from across the pub.

"I hardly know any of them! I'm not going to date just for the sake of dating!"

"Well, good for you. Did you see Roger after the match? He practically got jumped on the moment he entered the common room, and he certainly wasn't saying no."

"Thankfully my standards aren't quite as low as Roger's," I said jokingly before drinking deeply from my butterbeer.

"Hey, are you Sam Evans? And…Terence Higgs?" came a voice from the booth next to us.

I turned to spot a girl leaning toward us. "Yeah," I said slowly.

"You're in that Hogwarts band, right?"

I grinned. "We are."

"Oh, excellent! My aunt runs this place, and our entertainment cancelled on us last minute. Would you two fill in for us? We'll pay you."

Terence looked at me excitedly. "Of course we will!"

"We don't have our instruments though," I added.

"We have some. Piano and guitar right? I'll go get everything set up."

"Thanks!" Terence and I said together.

"No, thank you. This is brilliant!" she said before scampering off into the crowd.

"No way!" I yelped, dancing a bit in my seat. "If we can't perform at Hogwarts, at least we can do a little something here!"

"Do you think you've memorised the pieces we worked on over the summer?" Terence asked me, stretching his fingers out in preparation.

"I should, yeah." I began humming through some of the melodies, Terence and I warming up our voices as Stewart pretended to conduct us with his wand.

"You two are angels!" Rosemerta, the woman who ran the Three Broomsticks cried as she appeared seemingly from nowhere next to us, her niece beside her.

"Not at all! We'd be delighted to help out!" Terence said, beaming.

"We've got a little corner set up over there. Is there anything else you'll need?" Rosemerta asked, wringing her hands.

"We'll let you know," I said, standing and still smiling as we crossed over to the pretend-stage. The guitar wasn't the best thing I've ever seen, but it worked just fine, as did the piano.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome a surprise performance by Sam Evans and Terence Higgs of the Four Houses of Hogwarts School!" Rosemerta called out as we took our places. A smattering of applause sounded, the loudest being from the various groups of Hogwarts students amongst the crowd, and we began.

We soon found ourselves being bombarded by requests from the audience, which we happily accepted. They were mostly love songs, seeing as it was Valentine's Day, but I didn't mind so much. It was just a joy to be able to play again, and not just on my own in a corner of my mother's house.

Anything was better than a corner in Mother's house.


	13. Wounds

There was little standing between the fifth-years and O.W.L.s now, what with the early spring months disappearing more rapidly than they ever had before. And with Dumbledore gone…

I couldn't be sure of what happened, especially considering I scarcely saw Harry anymore, the one person who might have been able to tell me. But now Umbridge was headmistress, and I certainly didn't think being seen prying details from Harry would be received well if such news reached her ears.

So I busied myself with studying and doing everything I could to avoid attention. It seemed to be an impossible task, however, when Umbridge insisted on being around all the time.

She was seated in Flitwick's office when I walked in for my meeting about…wherever my life was going after graduating from Hogwarts. Dressed, as always, in flaming shades of pink, she wasn't hard to spot amongst Professor Flitwick's rather neutral-looking office.

"Have a seat, Miss Evans," Flitwick squeaked without giving any indication that he would acknowledge Umbridge's presence in the meeting, which made me decide that this wasn't the first meeting she had sat in on.

"Hello, Professor. How are you?" I asked, settling down in the chair before his desk.

"Lovely, and yourself?"

"Hem, hem," Umbridge interrupted. But Flitwick didn't appear to hear, so I continued the conversation.

"Busy, but surviving well enough. Better than last year, anyway."

"I heard your performance in the Three Broomsticks back in February. Splendid job, the both of you."

"Thank—"

"Excuse me," Umbridge cut across me. "Are such pleasantries necessary for this sort of a meeting?"

Flitwick went still, closing his eyes as though encouraging his patience. "Of course, headmistress. It's crucial to know how my students are doing, especially during such times as these."

"But surely we could move forward and discuss Miss Evans' future?"

"We could," Flitwick said shortly. "I'm glad to hear things are going well, especially after everything you've gone through to get here. I see your classes are going well for the most part."

"Yes, all is well considering. Although I've been having trouble in Transfigurations class, as I did last year. I mean, I learn the magic eventually, but the concept of one thing just becoming another is just so foreign to me. It's not like in Potions where certain things combine to create something new. Or even in Charms when it's based in cause and effect."

Flitwick nodded. "Naturally. You display excellent control over magic that is grounded in action, such as charms and defensive spells, but transfiguration is quite different. But Minerva assures me you are able to master the spells given enough time."

"Speaking of time," Umbridge interrupted yet again, "we're running short. Perhaps we discuss—"

"We're getting there, headmistress," Flitwick said heavily. He looked more irritated than I had ever seen him before, and he was usually such an upbeat professor. There was a long moment before he spoke again.

"Have you given any consideration as to what you might pursue after your days at Hogwarts?" he asked.

I paused to think, realising I hadn't given it any thought at all. "Not really, sir. I mean, there are plenty of things I could do, but the question is whether I want to."

Flitwick nodded encouragingly. "Entirely understandable. It's a major life decision, which is why I'm here to help you. It seems your strongest academic abilities lie in Potions and Herbology, a perfect combination. And as I said before, you display excellent skills in most wandwork, but not all, which makes careers based in wand-based magic a bit trickier."

"I don't mind focusing in potions," I said, biting back the desire to do anything unrelated to my mother. "Although I also love Quidditch."

"Yes, that is another viable—"

"Excuse me, Filius, but ought you be encouraging students to pursue careers of no benefit to the Wizarding world?"

"I'm sorry?" Flitwick said, baffled.

"Quidditch is not something the Ministry should be encouraging young witches and wizards to pursue if there are careers available within our government."

"Not everyone works directly for the Ministry," I countered.

"Times are changing, Miss Evans, and we ought to focus on bringing in the best to work for the Minister," Umbridge said so sweetly that I nearly missed the almost-compliment buried within her statement.

"Be that as it may, but if Miss Evans wishes to pursue a career in Quidditch, it is not our job to stop her. Samantha, if you'd like to focus on flying, do so by all means." Umbridge looked like she was going to interrupt, but Flitwick plowed forward. "As a backup option, however, I suggest you focus your N.E.W.T. studies in an academic-based career of your choosing."

"All right," I said, deciding not to look at Umbridge anymore. "What is available in potionmaking, then?"

"Quite a few! There's just basic potioneering, or you can teach in an academic setting. There's also potioneer work in the medical field."

"That sounds interesting," I said, not having any desire to teach.

"If you're interested in medicine, you could work to become a medi-witch researcher in developing new potions for medical use."

I nodded. "That sounds all right."

"The Ministry has excellent positions for masters in potioneering," Umbridge slipped in, but I ignored her.

"What would I need to concentrate on for work in the medical field?" I asked.

"You would need highest marks in potions, herbology, and astronomy. Although if you wanted to go all the way into Healing, you'd also require—"

"Astronomy?" Umbridge asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course," I said. "A potionmaker must know how different ingredients grow and interact at different cycles of the year, under different stages of the moons, certain planets—"

Umbridge held up a hand to silence me. "I see you are well-versed in the art of potionmaking. I'm sure you'll make an excellent addition to the Ministry."

I nearly groaned, but I held it in. "Anything else, Professor?" I asked Flitwick.

"That'll be all. Thank you for coming in, Miss Evans."

"Thank you, sir."

—

My birthday passed almost unnoticed as two very important events drew closer: the final Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor after Slytherin's narrow defeat to Hufflepuff, and of course, O.W.L.s. But I didn't really mind; I was just as busy as everyone else with the onslaught of training and homework assignments.

Roger kept dashing up to me in the corridors and talking in hushed tones about whether or not to add new tricks to the team's repertoire. But despite is frantic appearance between practices, he resumed full authority during those training sessions, continuing to train us as hard as he could for the match against Gryffindor.

I was upset that I wouldn't be facing Harry in the upcoming match; he had been banned from playing Quidditch at Hogwarts for life after all. Plus, Harry seemed to be avoiding me, and I wouldn't mind beating him to the Snitch to make me feel better about that fact.

And with the Weasley twins gone, it appeared Ravenclaw had a fair shot to win the Quidditch Cup, which Roger kept telling us over and over during practices.

"Really, Roger? I had NO IDEA!" Stewart finally shouted at Roger after his latest declaration that we were favourites for the Cup. Roger looked suitably abashed, triggering a wave of laughter through the team that settled our nerves. We started playing much better after that.

So when we took the pitch for the game, the team was much more relaxed than it had been during practices. Roger seemed to be biting his lip quite a bit to keep from repeating himself, but seemed to shake it off after we shot out into the sunlight.

I spotted Ron looking entirely too nervous in front of the Gryffindor hoops, and his sister Ginny, the temporary Seeker, pat him encouragingly on the back as she flew past him. And while the veterans on the team looked ready to go, the newcomers looked like they didn't know the difference between the head and tail of their broomsticks.

An echoing screech tore through the stadium, and I spotted Luna cheering madly beneath an enormous eagle perched on her head to represent Ravenclaw. I couldn't help but laugh.

Stewart looked rather stunned when he didn't make it to the Quaffle first as Madame Hooch launched it into the air; instead, Katie Bell snagged the red ball to make Gryffindor's first shot. Roger, however, snatched the ball and hurled it over to Stewart, who scored the first goal of the game against Ron.

Slytherin was singing "Weasley is our King" again. I sighed, but continued my search for the Snitch without pause. I spotted Ginny casting a worried glance at her brother, but a look of fierce determination replaced it. I hadn't had a chance to see Ginny fly before, but I wasn't about to let that distract me from my goal.

We continued to score against Ron, the gap between points growing as the match continued. Slytherin was singing even louder now, and Ron's face continued its ongoing attempts to match the colour of his hair.

Ravenclaw's numbers were going up steadily, to the point where it almost wouldn't matter who caught the Snitch. Ginny clearly realised this, and was doubling her efforts in finding the winged ball. I marked her closely, dodging Bludgers and players in turn.

The Snitch finally did appear, and Ginny and I both tore after it. I could hear her stressed breathing just behind me as her broom struggled to keep up with my own.

"Come on, Ginny!" someone screamed as we shot across the pitch. I didn't have time to figure out who it was, however, as the Snitch darted off in a new direction.

Ginny and I pulled a hairpin turn and continued after it. It couldn't have been more different than the last match where it had practically stayed still. This Snitch was dancing spastically around the stadium, nearly impossible to keep track of.

We were coming up on the golden ball, arms outstretched when a Bludger appeared from nowhere, wrenching Ginny and I in separate directions as it pelted between us. I swore viciously when the Snitch favoured Ginny as it spun off course.

"Got it!" she cried, and I whirled to check the score, heaving with the effort of keeping the expletives inside my head rather than coming out of my mouth. I almost wanted to swipe a bat and beat the life out of that damn Bludger for costing me my catch.

"And for the first time in many years, we have a tie score between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw! I don't even know what comes next myself!" the announcer called into the microphone.

Ginny and I glanced at each other, the looks on our faces clearly stating that we also had no idea what came next.

"Give that to me, Mr. Jordan," came McGonagall's voice. "Yes, well, in order to settle the score, the Chasers and Keeper of each team will participate in a series of penalty shots. The Bludgers and Snitch must be removed from the pitch, if you would, Madame Hooch, and the remainder of the players must return to the ground."

I flew hesitantly down to the ground; it felt wrong to leave half my team up in the sky as I then became a spectator in the final battle for victory. But when I was joined by the others, everyone looking just as stunned as I was, I turned my attention to the players above me.

Madame Hooch informed everyone that the two teams would take turns taking penalty shots, and the first to miss after the other had scored would be defeated. I felt so helpless as I watched everyone take their places up above, Angelina Johnson looking rather menacing with the Quaffle as she lined up a shot at Roger Davies.

She scored. Gryffindor cheered wildly. Ron took his position in front of the hoops looking deathly pale as Stewart lined up the shot.

He scored. Ravenclaw screamed in delight. Roger replaced Ron at the hoops for Katie Bell's penalty shot.

She scored.

I could hardly breathe as I watched the display. I wondered if Madame Hooch would let me blow up the Bludger after the match if we lost this. I wondered if I should have taken the hit so I might be spared the stress of watching my teammates struggle in these final moments.

And then, to my absolute horror, Ron somehow flung himself in front of the Quaffle, blocking our shot.

"NO!" I screamed as the Gryffindors around me let out excited war-cries and flew up to tackle-hug Ron Weasley, who had saved them from their loss.

The rest of our team flew down to meet us, everyone looking entirely dejected as we trudged off the field. The locker room had never been as quiet as it was today. I stripped off my uniform in silence, punched my locker loudly, and stepped into the showers for the longest bathing experience I had ever had.

So much for wanting to go into Quidditch, I thought bitterly as I imagined countless ways to dismantle a Bludger.


	14. Mission

It didn't take Ravenclaw House long to get over its defeat in favour of preparing for O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s and end-of-year examinations. So when the exams did arrive, there was no space left in my brain for moping about Quidditch scores. And when those were over, there wasn't really room for anything at all.

The exams went rather well. I'd never been tested so formally before, but once I got over the fact that these were Ministry examiners, I was able to focus on my own performance on the tests, and sauntered out of the last exam feeling extraordinarily accomplished evan as I bumped into someone.

"Oh, sorry Ginny!" I apologised. "Say, I wanted to congratulate you on the match. You might not be Harry, but you can certainly hold your own."

"Thanks, Sam! Yeah, that was quite a twist, wasn't it? I'm still in shock!"

I nodded. "Next time you won't be so lucky, though," I said with a mischievous grin.

Ginny laughed. "I better start training more over the summer, then."

We chatted a bit more before Ginny was summoned hurriedly by a worried-looking Hermione. I waved at her, but she didn't seem to notice me.

I took my time making my way back to Ravenclaw common room. I figured I'd spend some time out on the lawn with my guitar, seeing as summer was arriving nicely at Hogwarts. But just as I was making my way back downstairs from the fifth floor, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Evans!"

"Dr—Malfoy?" I replied, surprised that he was talking to me, here, in the middle of the corridor.

When Draco caught up to me, he glanced around to make sure no one could hear him as he said, "Can you go get Severus for me and ask him to come to Umbridge's office?"

"Um, sure. Why?"

"Sorry, I have to get back. I can't miss this!" he said excitedly, dashing back in the direction he came from. So with a shrug, I set off for the dungeons, guitar on my back and a song on my lips.

I sang quietly to myself as I descended familiar stairs into the darkened corridors of Slytherin territory. I skipped over to Snape's office, my thoughts on where I would settle down to practice outside, when the Potions master's door flung open and I nearly skipped straight into the man.

"Oh, sorry!" I called, taking a hasty step backward from Snape.

"Can I help you, Miss Evans?" Snape said, voice cold as he frowned at me.

"Er, yeah," I said, suddenly focusing very hard on not tripping over my words. "Draco Malfoy, sir. He asks that you come to the headmistress' office immediately."

"Very well." And Snape brushed past me without further word.

"You're welcome," I said to the empty corridor as he disappeared. Then, following his path, I made my way back upstairs and out onto the front lawn of the castle.

I decided not to stray too far, as the sun was already showing signs of setting over the lake. I settled down in the grass and began to strum. Some students lifted their heads when they heard, but mercifully remained where they were with friends. I wasn't quite in the mood to socialise after exams.

The sun continued to sink, the orange light reflecting off the lake as I played through some older pieces I had written. The breeze ruffled my hair, easing my thoughts out of their study-driven state in preparation for the soon-to-come summer months. I wondered vaguely where I would go for the holidays. I certainly wasn't going back to Mother. And I was certain Harry's aunt and uncle weren't very keen on seeing me again.

I was sixteen now, but that still made me underage. I wouldn't be able to stay on my own long, and I couldn't afford renting a room in the Leaky Cauldron for that long. I sighed. I could ask Luna, whose father would be more than happy to let me stay with them for the summer. But Luna had been drifting this past year, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend those months with someone I wasn't getting along with terribly well.

I considered Stewart or Terence, but I didn't know their families at all. I sighed again, still strumming as I weighed my options.

I briefly considered going back to the Order of the Phoenix and asking to stay, but I figured I had used up my quota of free time from them, considering they hadn't initially wanted me to stay. I wasn't part of the Order, after all, or even directly related to any of the members.

My thoughts were interrupted as I spotted Harry, Hermione, and of all people, Umbridge hurrying out of the school and walking briskly toward the Forbidden Forest, Hermione in the lead.

I frowned, my strumming slowing to a stop. They didn't look like people that wanted to be followed. And with the circles of students thoroughly enraptured by being free of exams, they weren't about to be.

It was this thought that made me stand up and creep over to the closest group of students. I handed my guitar to a third-year Ravenclaw I recognised and asked her to hold onto it for me. She nodded, then turned back to the game of Exploding Snaps they were playing, the guitar lying safely beside her.

And with that, I turned and headed to where the odd trio had disappeared into the trees and made to pursue.

I had never been in the forest before. As soon as I stepped into the trees, everything darkened. The treetops blocked out the little sunlight left in the day, and thick trunks immediately hid the castle from view.

Listening hard, I heard the girlish voice of Umbridge speaking indecipherably in the distance. As quietly as I could, I followed the sound of that wretched voice.

"We're almost there," I heard Hermione saying as I closed the gap between us. "Just a little further."

The sound of their footsteps stopped abruptly, accompanied by a loud shriek. I stopped, listening hard, heart beating madly.

"Who are you?" came a deep voice that didn't belong to any of the three. Concerned, I stepped closer as quietly as I could.

The voices grew louder as I spotted a clearing ahead. I moved nearer, spotting Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge in the middle of the clearing surrounded by fifty or so centaurs with bows pointed in at the trio. I held in a gasp as I watched Umbridge argue with the apparent leader.

It was clearly a battle for superiority, which Umbridge was losing. Hermione, however, looked pleased with the situation, which kept me rooted to my spot as I tried to decipher the situation.

The moon was shining into the clearing, full and bright as the last remnants of sunlight disappeared. The lights made the ropes that shot out of Umbridge's wand shimmer as she cast the spell on the head centaur. They all charged.

"No!" I breathed, watching as Harry pulled Hermione to the ground as the centaurs galloped about them, carrying Umbridge away. I had to get them out of there, or they would be killed for sure.

I crept around the edge of the clearing, searching for a clean shot. Then, while the centaurs were busy dealing with Umbridge, I cast a levitation spell on the two and pulled them hurriedly into the trees.

I grabbed them by the robes and pulled them down behind a large tree, mouthing for them to be quiet.

"How did you know where we were?" Hermione asked once the centaurs had all disappeared deeper into the forest.

"I spotted you from the lawn. What's going on? Where are your wands?"

"Right here," came a voice.

I whirled, wand pointed out into the darkness, which I quickly lowered as Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna appeared in the light of the clearing. Ron handed Harry and Hermione their wands.

"How did you get away?" Hermione asked in amazement.

"Wait, what's going on?" I interrupted.

"Sirius is in trouble, that's what's going on," said Harry irritably. "And I need to get to the Ministry of Magic now."

"How do you know Sirius is in trouble?" I asked.

"Look, I don't have time to explain," Harry snapped. "But he needs help, and I don't know how to get to the Department of Mysteries."

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" Luna said matter-of-factly.

We all stared at her for a long moment before the banter began. I stared at Luna, trying to figure out what she meant.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, effectively silencing everyone. "They live out here, don't they? Brilliant!"

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Thestrals!"

"Those mad horse things?" Ron asked, staring around. And sure enough, several thestrals had appeared in the clearing. "But we can't see them!"

"Some of us can," Harry said quietly, patting the nearest one affectionately. "All right, I'm going." He mounted the thestral.

"Wait for us!" Ginny said, staring blindly at the growing horde of thestrals. "We'll need help!"

"You're not all coming!" Harry said indignantly.

"Don't be stupid. Isn't this what the DA was all about?" Ginny said impatiently.

"DA?" I asked, but no one responded.

"Here, I'll help you," Luna said, guiding Ginny over to a thestral and helping her onto it.

Neville and I helped Hermione and Ron before hopping on our own and preparing for take-off. Harry, looking angry about the whole thing, spoke softly to his thestral and, moments later, we lurched dangerously off the ground and shot straight up out of the clearing.

I clung to my thestral desperately, its enormous wings flapping beside me as I held the creature close. The trip to London took less time than the Hogwarts Express, but probably because we were hurtling through the air faster than any train ever could.

I wanted so badly to ask someone what was going on, what the DA was, and why Sirius was in trouble, but I was terrified of even lifting my head to see where we were flying, let alone converse with anyone. So I busied myself with memorising the trails of skin on the thestral's neck.

We finally found the ground again, dismounting quickly from the strange creatures and rushing over to the guest entrance of the Ministry of Magic. The seven of us squashed into the pretend phone box, which lowered us down into the depths of the Ministry.

"Harry, can you at least tell me what we're about to face?" I said quietly, not wanting to anger my clearly-irritated cousin.

"Voldemort," he said firmly.

"Right," I said shortly, wondering wildly how much I had missed out on this past term if Harry and the others were all on board with this crazy plan. "Do you know where in the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry craned his neck, eyes wide. "Your mum works in the Department of Mysteries!" he exclaimed.

I nodded. "I know. Now where are we going?"

"It's a huge room with arching ceilings and rows and rows of dusty orbs," Harry described quickly as the phone box deposited us at the entry to the Ministry.

I nodded again. "The Hall of Prophecies."

"Whatever. Can you get us there?" Harry asked hurriedly.

"I think so," I said, thinking back to when I had flipped through maps of the department when I had been stuck in Mother's office.

"Brilliant. Let's go!" And we took off at a run toward the lifts.

The entrance to the department was the same black door I had seen during my visits, looking just as foreboding as ever. The others hesitated, and so I walked inside first.

"Don't shut the door," I said as we piled inside. "This is where it gets tricky."

"There are so many doors!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, and if we're not careful, we could get very, very lost in here," I said seriously. "Now let me think."

The doors were on a cycle known only to department workers, and I had never told Mother that I had memorised the charts in her office during my spare time. I shut my eyes, thinking hard.

"The fourth door from the left," I said, voice steady as to not worry the others. "Cast 'Flagrate' on it."

Hermione hurried forward, lifting her wand to perform the spell. A fiery red "x" appeared on the door. She then tried to open the door.

"It's locked," she said.

"And it'll stay that way until we shut this one," I said. "Go on, Neville."

Neville shut the door, and the walls began to spin.

"Whoa," Ron breathed when the doors settled back down. "It moved!"

Indeed, the door with the red "x" now stood to our right. "Open it."

Harry rushed forward this time, flinging the door open. "This is it!" he cried, dashing into the glowing room. He didn't pause to look at anything as he hurried through the next door, and the next, and the group finally spilled into the Hall of Prophecies.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," Hermione whispered as the group stared around at the endless rows of dusty orbs.

"Yeah," Harry said, hurrying forward.

I glanced around cautiously, remembering how this place had affected me in my youth. It was so grand, and yet so terrifying. I let the group drift in front of me as I relived childhood memories of hiding from Mother in here and exploring the names on the orbs. So many old, brilliant names.

The voices of the group grew distant, but I knew I'd find them again. I ran my fingers across the shelves, the dust peeling itself away from its home and clinging to my fingertips.

It wasn't until a familiar voice sounded that I realised how much danger we were in:

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me," drawled Lucius Malfoy.


	15. Revelations

I ducked silently into the nearest row when I realised Lucius hadn't seen me. Harry and the others, however, had not been so lucky.

I peaked out into the open space to find several masked Death Eaters surrounding my friends, wands at the ready. It had all been a trap.

Edging my way closer to the group, I scanned the area for a way to free them. The echoing of their conversation provided excellent cover as I inched forward. The only entrances were at either end, neither of which were accessible from this distance, so I searched for a possible diversion.

I could see Lucius now, sneering as he spoke to Harry. I shouldn't have felt any degree of surprise, but I couldn't help it after spending so much time with the Malfoys over the winter holidays. But all that was over, the polite conversation and elaborate celebrations, and it was now time to choose a side.

Harry's eyes widened minutely when he spotted me crouched behind a row of orbs. He flicked his emerald eyes around at the shelves without moving his head, then jerked his head a fraction of an inch. I nodded, miming knocking the shelves over, to which he glanced away, apparently in approval.

I waited, wand raised and air seemed to shift around me as I pooled my magic and concentration in toward one single purpose…

"NOW!" Harry cried.

"REDUCTO!" I bellowed, and the wave of magic erupted from my wand and began the domino effect on the rows of shelving. Harry and the others ran for it, dashing back where they had come. Cornered in my crouched position, however, I couldn't reach them. I spun on my heel and sprinted for the offices that lined the hall.

The others will make it out, I told myself as I dashed inside and magicked the door shut. I'll find my own way.

I hurled through the empty rooms, locking the doors behind me to give me more time to escape. I could hear footsteps pounding after me, but I didn't stop until I had run so far that I couldn't hear them anymore.

I burst through another door and ran straight into a person standing on the other side.

"You have to get out of here! The—Mother?" I cried, surprised.

"Samantha? What are you doing here?" Mother replied, looking entirely stunned holding an armful of parchment.

"There are Death Eaters, Mother, we have to get out!" I said quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the next door.

"What do you mean—?" she started to say, but the sound of footsteps grew loud as the Death Eaters drew closer.

"She went through there!" called a voice I didn't recognise. "Get her!"

"Hide," my mother said firmly. She threw the parchment onto her desk and pushed me back toward a cupboard I knew was filled with books.

"No, we have to—" I struggled against her.

"Trust me!" Mother said, her voice pleading. Stunned by the sincerity in her eyes, I fell quiet and let her close me inside the cupboard.

The office door burst open, and the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Cassandra!" came Lucius' voice. I peeked through the slots in the cupboard to watch as Lucius went up and embraced my mother. "Have you seen a young girl run through here recently?"

"I haven't, Lucius," Mother said, and had I not known the truth, I would have never been able to tell she was lying. "What brings you to the Ministry at this late hour?"

"Oh come on, Cass, surely you can figure that one out," the other Death Eater said slyly. "After all, Barty did spend many years trying to recruit you. The poor sod. Never got over that crush, I don't think."

"So the rumours are true?" Mother said casually, sitting down at her desk.

Lucius leaned over the desk and closed the space between him and my mother. "How could they not be?"

"You've heard what the Ministry has been saying on the matter," she said.

"You know better than that," Lucius scoffed. "Don't pretend like you weren't nearly one of us."

It took every ounce of willpower to keep from gasping. So Voldemort had been trying to recruit my mother? How had I not known this? I mean, sure, she was in Slytherin, but she had never expressed any interest in Dark magic around me or Dad!

"I'm not pretending anything. I am, however, quite busy," she said, lifting a quill and beginning to scribble on a piece of parchment.

Lucius stopped her quill with his hand, pulling it slowly from her grasp. "I know you're lying, Cass. You know where the girl went, don't you?" His voice was dangerous and low. I shivered.

Mother looked up into his eyes unflinchingly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Everyone's gone home after their shift, so you won't find anyone else here."

"So you didn't notice the gang of students who waltzed in here this evening?" Lucius asked mildly.

"As it so happens, I have not. I have been working in my office all day."

There was a blur of motion as Lucius slapped my mother. Hard. I stiffened, willing myself not to burst out of the cupboard and strangle the man.

"TELL ME WHERE THE GIRL IS, CASSANDRA," Lucius shouted.

Mother straightened, the side of her face reddening quickly from the blow. "I'll tell you exactly what I told Barty the last time I saw him." She leaned toward Lucius. "Sod off."

"Crucio!" the other Death Eater cried.

Mother fell to the floor, writhing in pain. She screeched, the noise unbearable. I watched her jerk on the floor, hands clasped over my mouth to keep from screaming. That's when I noticed I was crying.

The Death Eater lifted the curse, and Cassandra lie heaving on the floor. Her breath came in gasps. I couldn't stand it anymore: I grabbed the door handle.

It didn't budge.

"No!" I cried, shaking the door, throwing my weight against it. "Mother!"

But no one heard me. I peered through the slots again and noticed the tip of my mother's wand pointed at the cupboard before disappearing into her sleeve. There could be only one explanation: she had locked me in here and cast a silencing charm on the cupboard.

My tears were falling freely now, and all the emotions from Dad's torture and murder rushed back. But this Death Eater wore no mask, and I would never forget this.

Lucius crouched next to Mother, stroking her hair. I wanted to break his fingers for touching her. "After all this time, I thought you'd get over your little escapades with that Ravenclaw dirtbag," he said softly. "Barty never lost hope. He thought you'd change back and be the witch you truly are."

The other Death Eater chuckled, and I hated him for it.

"He loved you, Cassandra."

"No, Dark magic was his true love," Mother gasped.

"And it can be yours again," Lucius crooned, tucking a lock of Mother's hair behind her ear. "Come back to us."

There was a long moment of silence. All I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears.

"No" she croaked, voice weak.

"Very well," Lucius said, rising. He looked back at his companion. "Let's go."

They strode over Mother, trotting on her fingers as they passed over to the next door. The other Death Eater pushed the door open and disappeared.

"What a waste," Lucius whispered.

"Avada Kedavra."

A glare of emerald light blinded me, and when it faded, Lucius was gone. All that was left was Mother's limp frame on the office floor.

"NOOO!" I screamed. I threw my body against the cupboard door, and it burst open, dumping me gracelessly on the floor.

"MOTHER!" I cried, crawling over to where she lay. "Please, no." But her body was cold, eyes without light. "Please," I sobbed desperately.

I pulled her body onto my lap and wept into her hair. I couldn't breath. I spluttered and choked through my tears, gripping her robes in my fists and shaking her as though she would wake.

"DAD!" I screeched. And then there were no words left as I cried myself tearless.

Then, as suddenly as though I had been electrocuted, I shot to my feet. I grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted for the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters.

The kitchen whirled into sight, and I spotted several Order members scurrying about the room.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" I shrieked, effectively silencing the entire group of adults.

I'm sure I looked entirely deranged, tears streaking my face, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Are you with Harry?" Sirius demanded as Lupin said, "We're on our way!"

I lost it. I slumped into the flames, all energy gone. I felt hands on my face, and the sounds of people sweeping past me into the office.

"She needs to go to hospital," I heard someone say. "Floo her to Hogwarts, now."

"No," I moaned. "Mother…"

But the darkness claimed me, and I saw no more.

—

I stirred from unconsciousness, realising immediately that I was no longer where I had been.

I jolted to my feet, legs tangling in the Hospital wing sheets as I struggled to free myself from the bed. I had just made myself upright when firm hands pushed me back onto the bed.

"I'm fine," I said, blinking Madame Pomfrey into existence. "Where is everyone?"

"We're here," called a familiar voice. I turned and spotted Harry sitting at the end of another Hospital wing bed, which was currently housing Ron. Hermione was in the next bed, Ginny curled up at the foot of it, and Neville seated between the two beds. Luna was also present, her nose buried in the latest Quibbler.

I struggled against Madame Pomfrey's grip. "Are you guys all right?"

"Surviving," Hermione said weakly. "We'll be fine."

"Where's my mother?" I demanded, turning on Madame Pomfrey.

"Not to worry, Miss Evans, she's well protected," the medi-witch said calmly.

"By whom?"

"By me," came a new voice; Dumbledore strode into the room.

"Headmaster!" I cried. "You're back!"

"Indeed I am," the old man chuckled kindly, waving cheerily at the group of Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. "How are you feeling, Miss Evans?"

I fell back into the pillows, quickly realising that I had no more tears to shed. "I've been better."

"I'm sure you have."

"Where is she?" I whispered. I was surprised by the emotion in my voice, considering I had never much cared for the woman in question. But now I was alone, parentless, and I didn't much care for it.

"She is safe. The Aurors are examining her body to confirm—"

"That Lucius Malfoy tortured and killed her?" I said scathingly. "Yeah, well, I didn't need them to tell me that."

"Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters present yesterday have been arrested and sent to Azkaban for their crimes. I assure you, he will be punished for his actions."

I nodded slowly, then shook my head. "I can't believe he did that."

"It seems your mother had a history with the wrong crowd," Dumbledore said gently.

I sighed heavily. "I can't believe there was so much I didn't know. If only she had told me. I could have helped! I could have—!"

"Relax, Samantha. Your mother made her own decisions."

"But why did they need her? Why did they even stop?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It appears Mr. Malfoy knew it was you he was chasing."

"What? How!" I cried, struggling to rise again. I pulled myself into a sitting position without any complaint from Madame Pomfrey, and so I assumed I was healthy.

"We have much to discuss," he said softly, glancing over at the others in the hospital to ensure they were otherwise occupied. "Please come to my office sometime tonight."

"Tonight? Shouldn't it be morning?" I said, glancing at a nearby clock.

"It appears your body went into shock and kept you unconscious for longer than is usual," Pomfrey interjected. "You're perfectly healthy now, but you've been out of it all day."

"Right," I said shortly. "Can I go, then?"

"Yes, you may."

"I'll see you soon, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said in farewell. And I made my way out of the hospital wing.

"Sam!" Harry called just as I made it to the corridor. I poked my head back inside. "Thanks."

I tried to smile. "Yeah," I said weakly. And I hurried away.


	16. Cornered

After dinner I forced myself to make the journey over to Dumbledore's office. I was feeling numb, as though I had drained myself of all emotion yesterday and couldn't be bothered to feel anything anymore. Stewart and Terence had come and asked me how I was doing, but I couldn't bring myself out of the funk I was in. They mercifully let me be.

"Ah, Miss Evans, do come in," Dumbledore said gently as I strode into his office. "Go ahead and help yourself to some tea whilst I wrap up this conversation."

I crossed over to a small table with tea and biscuits and poured myself a cup. The other man in the room was an Auror, and I found my thoughts flashing back to last year when I was in this very same office in a very similar situation. Hopefully, though, this time no one would be arresting me for murder.

The Auror said farewell and left a moment later, and so I seated myself in the chair before Dumbledore's desk. I sipped at my tea, avoiding Dumbledore's knowing gaze.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said gently. I nodded. "He recognised your voice."

I glanced up at Dumbledore, slowly realising that he was cutting to the chase rather than beating around the bush, as he had last year when I had met with him at the end of term. For that, I was grateful.

"When I cast the spell, he must have heard me," I said, mostly to myself. It made sense. "All right. What else?" I asked numbly.

"I'm sure you're aware that we need to discuss your placement for the summer, as you are now parentless and still underage." I nodded. "Guardianship falls, as you know, to your next of kin."

"I don't have-"

"Harry Potter."

"Oh."

"However, living with him is out of the question due to reasons between Harry and myself."

I sagged a bit in my seat. "Yes, sir."

"Are you familiar with guardianship laws in the Wizarding world, Miss Evans?"

"Not much, no."

"In the event that an underage witch or wizard has no next of kin, the Ministry is able to determine with whom lies the most communication between the family and another witch or wizard. By analysing magical traces left behind by another person, they can say who has been around the family the most, signalling some form of trust between the two parties. If the person is deemed harmless, guardianship then passes to that witch or wizard. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes, sir. But my family moved around when I was young. We didn't have any permanent friends."

"Nevertheless, the Ministry has been able to determine someone with a significant amount of history with your parents, particularly your mother."

Oh, no. "Who?"

Dumbledore paused for just a moment before speaking.

"Barty Crouch Jr."

I leapt to my feet, the chair skidding away across the room. "No. Absolutely not. I don't care if his soul's been sucked out and he can't harm a fly, I'm not going anywhere near that monster!"

"Calm down, Samantha. I do have a solution for your predicament. You needn't worry."

Suddenly feeling foolish for thinking that Dumbledore hadn't realized what this meant, I turned and retrieved my seat. "Sorry," I mumbled as I sat back down.

Dumbledore waved the apology away. "Before we discuss ways around this unfortunate circumstance, I would like you to understand why we can't allow this to happen. Aside from the effect that man has had on your life, he is under the direct control of Lord Voldemort. Because he is considered harmless, he is no longer in Azkaban, and is therefore a danger to you as he would place you under the control of Lord Voldemort as well."

"But why would Voldemort want me?"

"He did spend a great deal of time trying to recruit your mother, as you discovered."

"But he failed. Why would I be any different?"

"Because you, unlike your mother, are close to Harry Potter."

I froze.

"If he were able to use you, it would put him one step closer to Harry."

Suddenly, so many of Mother's actions made sense. She never told me I was related to Harry because she didn't want me growing attached to him. By keeping us apart, it kept both of us safe. And I had gone and done exactly what she had worked to prevent.

"No," I choked out.

Dumbledore nodded. "I presumed as much. And that brings us to ways of circumventing this happenstance. Are you familiar with Wizarding laws that allow a witch or wizard to be considered an adult prior to turning seventeen?"

I shook my head as I lifted my tea cup to my lips again, willing my heart to slow its ridiculous pace as I realized how far into this mess I had fallen. How did I get here? I wanted to be angry at Mother for...being Slytherin? I winced, realising how much she had done to protect me despite her affiliation. She didn't ask for any of this either. And she tried to distance herself from me so Voldemort wouldn't think of me as a potential accomplice. My affections swelled.

"In your case, marriage is your only option for being considered a legal witch."

I choked on my tea.

"Witches and wizards are permitted to marry as young as fifteen years of age, as I'm sure you are aware," he said, eyes twinkling a bit.

"I am, but-" I coughed down my tea, all thoughts of my mother gone. "I wasn't planning on being a married student. Is that even allowed?"

"Of course it is. Married students are permitted to live off of Hogwarts grounds and Floo to classes each day. There are even several unmarried students who choose to live at home for various reasons."

"Ok, but wouldn't marrying someone just be putting someone else in danger?"

"Not if your spouse could protect you."

"And who's going to do that!" I cried, setting down my tea for fear of dropping it. "If Voldemort's after me, who in the name of Merlin is going to be able to protect me from that!"

"That's where the Order comes in. I understand that you've learned a fair amount about us from your visit this past summer?"

I nodded.

"You are aware then of the various missions members of the Order are involved in?"

I nodded again.

"I suggest we utilise someone who is working against Lord Voldemort."

"You want me to marry someone in the Order?" I said more sarcastically than I intended. "So my choices include a convicted felon, a werewolf, a married couple, a Metamorphmagus-"

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop me. "I am aware of the variety of members in the Order. And, unfortunately, our 'convicted felon' perished last night in the fight."

I inhaled sharply, thinking immediately of Harry. Harry's last tie to his father was gone…

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Dumbledore nodded at my condolences, then continued.

"I am thinking of someone in the Order who can also keep an eye on you while you're here at Hogwarts. Having you Floo back and forth from somewhere compromises your security."

I gulped. "You want me to marry a staff member here?"

"That would be ideal," Dumbledore said mildly, rummaging around for a lemon drop in a desk drawer.

I stared at him, jaw slack. The silence stretched as he pulled apart a lemon drop from its companions and popped it into his mouth. Only then did he look at me and my gradually reddening face.

"Oh, I should clarify: it wouldn't be me. But certainly a professor."

I inhaled suddenly, realising I had forgotten to breath.

"Have some more tea, Miss Evans. You know, of course, that the Wizarding world is not particular about age gaps in marriages, but I am a bit further from you than what you may be comfortable with."

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to seem ungrateful, it's all just a bit of a rush."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure. Would you like to take a break to think?"

"No. I just want to get this figured out." I sipped my tea. "So you want me to marry a Hogwarts professor who is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. That's not terribly helpful either."

Dumbledore gazed kindly at me, allowing my rambling to continue.

"I mean, that limits me to Professor McGonagall, who's also up there in age...and a woman. No disrespect, but I don't tend to, er, look that way. Who else? Professor Hagrid? Also a little outside my comfort zone. Professor Flitwick, same thing. Professor Sn-" I froze.

A quick glance into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes told me I had found the right answer.

"Oh," I squeaked.

"As a member of the Order, a Hogwarts professor, and a spy amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters, Professor Snape, or Severus as you ought to call him now, would be able to protect you from Lord Voldemort."

I wasn't breathing again. My eyesight swam before I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my still-racing heart. "Snape," I mouthed at nothing in particular.

"Have some more tea, Miss Evans," Dumbledore suggested.

I drained my cup.


	17. Bells

I stared unseeingly out at the grounds of Hogwarts from the castle's front steps. My entire body felt numb. My ears were filled with a white noise only I could hear.

Everyone had left. I vaguely remembered giving my friends some lame excuse about the Ministry asking me to stay behind until they could deal with the situation. They accepted the lie easily, and it nearly broke my heart. I watched them walk away, the sad smile on my face saying more than they would ever know.

As the minutes ticked closer, the realisation sunk in harder: I was marrying Professor Snape. I, Sam Evans, was getting married. To Professor Snape. Professor Snape was marrying me. Merlin only knows why he agreed. It certainly wasn't my skills in Potions, which he thoroughly ignored on a daily basis.

The grounds were empty and quiet. The stone steps were terribly uncomfortable, but I couldn't seem to move. The occasional ghost or house elf flitted past, the latter working to fix up the castle after the students' departure. Many of the professors had left as well, eagerly leaving for summer vacations in various parts of the world, each one oblivious to the one student who remained. I envied the ease of their escape.

I had thought about running, but Voldemort would have snatched me up in a second. I could run, but I'd never hide.

I sighed. There was no way out of this one. I had to get married.

"Miss Samantha?" came a squeaky voice from the entrance to the castle. I turned to find a small female house elf looking down at me from the top of the steps.

"Call me Sam," I said automatically.

"Sam, Dumbledore sent Mimi to help you get ready. Will the young miss come?"

I stood up, resigned to my fate, and followed the house elf back inside.

"So your name is Mimi?" I asked her as we walked past the Great Hall.

"Yes, miss," the elf replied.

"You don't have to call me miss, Mimi," I said kindly as she showed me into a side room I had never seen before. "Thanks."

"Oh," I breathed, spotting the set of wedding robes hanging in the small room. I walked up to them, placing a hand on its silky material. "It's beautiful."

"Would you like Mimi to help you remove your robes?" Mimi offered.

I snapped out of my haze. "That's all right," I said as I began stripping off my school robes that I hadn't even bothered changing out of. I tugged off my Ravenclaw tie, which Mimi took and laid it gently on the only table in the room. She smoothed it out with her hands, folding it perfectly, and turning to receive the button down shirt I had pulled off, treating it with the same respect.

It was odd, watching the elf work. Mimi worked with ease, clearly not minding her job as she helped me into the set of white wedding robes. She clambered up onto the table and began working on my hair as I stepped in front of the mirror that had been hiding behind the robes.

I stared. The dress fit perfectly, hugging my body like a glove. I couldn't believe how good it looked, so much simpler than the robes I had worn at the Malfoy's Christmas party. They were much more me. I wasn't one for all the bells and whistles that came attached to things. This was much more real.

I continued to gaze into the mirror as Mimi slipped an emerald necklace around my throat, a necklace that threw my eyes into relief against the dress. Still staring, I didn't even notice when Mimi dropped down to my feet and, lifting the bottom of my dress a bit, slipped a perfectly matching set of shoes underneath. I stepped into them, surprised to find them remarkably comfortable.

"Is there anything else Mimi can get for you, m-Sam?" Mimi corrected herself.

I tore my eyes away and looked down at the elf. My eyes suddenly glistened with tears. My breathing was shallow as the realisation sunk even further: I was getting married. No father or mother to walk me up the aisle, no family to weep happily, and certainly no celebration of such an arranged marriage. There was no one there.

"Just company, if you can spare it," I whispered.

"Of course," Mimi said immediately, clambering back onto the table. I sat down next to her.

"Thank you for all your help," I said softly, as though speaking at normal volume would trigger the tears I was fighting back.

"A pleasure, miss. Er, Sam. Sorry."

I waved away her apology and noticed that my hand was shaking. I closed it into a fist.

"Are you nervous, Sam?" Mimi asked. "If Mimi may ask."

"Of course you may ask. And yes. So many things have happened. It's as though my life is no longer my own. I'm…scared."

"You are brave to go through with it," Mimi countered, then blushed. She looked away.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"And you're brave to marry Master Severus," Mimi added.

"Why do you say that?"

Mimi glanced sideways at me as though sizing me up. I suddenly felt very small next to the elf.

"Master Severus scares us house elves," she said in a low voice.

A sudden chuckle erupted from my mouth, taking me by surprise for a moment. I couldn't recall laughing at all this past week. "You're not alone. Most students would agree with you."

"Master Severus doesn't scare you?" Mimi asked, staring up at me in awe.

"I don't know how he makes me feel, but I don't think it's scared," I said honestly.

There was a moment of silence as we both considered what I had said. Deciding that I didn't want to think about it, I asked Mimi a question in return.

"So Dumbledore told you about why this is happening, then?"

The elf nodded. "Mimi has been sworn to tell no one. Mimi and Vinny both."

"Who's Vinny?"

"Vinny is another house elf. Vinny is helping Master Severus get ready. Vinny and Mimi will be yours and Master Severus' elves when the wedding is over."

"Oh." The thought suddenly struck me that Professor Snape must be doing a great deal of thinking as well. After all, he was a professor and a spy in possibly the most dangerous predicament in the modern Wizarding world. He didn't need another thing to think about in his life. And yet he had agreed to the marriage rather than letting me suffer at the hands of Voldemort directly.

A phoenix Patronus flew suddenly into the room and Dumbledore's voice echoed from it.

"Whenever you're ready, Miss Evans, Mimi will escort you to the Great Hall." The phoenix vanished.

"The Great Hall? That's where the wedding is?" I asked, wondering why Dumbledore wanted so much space for a supposedly secret marriage.

Mimi nodded, hopping down from the desk. I took a deep breath, forced my emotions in check, and strode after the elf. It was this, or straight into the hands of the most evil wizard in history. I had to do this. Not just for me, but for Harry.

For Harry.

Next thing I knew, I was staring at the doors to the Great Hall. Mimi handed me a bouquet of flowers and stepped forward to open the doors.

"Ready?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever get. Go ahead."

Mimi pushed the doors open wide, and soft music reached my ears. The elf scurried forward and out of the way, gesturing me forward. I took another deep breath and stepped inside.

The Great Hall was decorated very simply, but elegantly. I walked up the aisle slowly, the house tables removed and the main aisle replaced with a soft rolling carpet that matched the decor. It was beautiful.

I looked up to see that Mimi had dashed to the front of the Hall to stand next to another elf: Vinny, I presumed. They stood beside Dumbledore, who was dressed quite regally for the occasion. And next to the headmaster-

I felt myself blushing, and not in a butterflies-in-your-stomach way. I suddenly realized that I'd be spending a great deal of time with this man that I hardly knew. I was giving myself over to him in the most permanent way possible. Our magical signatures would be bound together for life in a very, very intimate way. I blushed even deeper, dropping my gaze to my feet. The implications of this marriage were hitting me hard now, and I suddenly couldn't remember why I was doing this anymore.

Oh yeah, Voldemort.

Mimi took the bouquet from my hands as I reached the front of the Great Hall. I stepped in front of Professor Snape, who looked paler than usual. His face was forcibly blank as he gazed determinately at Dumbledore.

"Join hands," Dumbledore said lightly, looking entirely too comfortable for the situation.

I gulped. Snape offered up his hands, and I made myself lay my own in his grasp.

The headmaster's words rolled over me as the implications of the marriage sunk in even further: I was binding myself to Snape in mind, magic, soul, and—body.

Oh.

The blush returned full force as I realised how little I knew about wizarding marriage, particularly arranged ones. What would the martial bond require of us? I closed my eyes, desperately attempting to calm myself. I couldn't think of this now. Any time but now; Dumbledore was asking me a question. The question.

I opened my eyes and found Snape staring down at me.

For Harry, I reminded myself.

"I do."

"I do," Snape echoed.

"I now pronounced you married. You may now kiss and seal your bond forevermore."

OhMerlinOhMerlinOhMerlin, I swore in my head. I forgot about the damn kiss!

Snape took a small step forward, his face still incredibly blank. I leaned in, knowing I had to get it over with, and closed my eyes tight.

Our lips met for a brief moment, and my eyes nearly snapped back open. The kiss was sweet, softer than I could have ever imagined from such a stiff, cold man. But in a second it was over, and I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.

Mimi and Vinny began clapping excitedly next to us, and I ducked my head in embarrassment as I realized that it was now official. I was married. I was Mrs. Severus Snape.

Oh, Merlin.

When the awkward applause died down, Snape dropped our grip abruptly. I stared down at my feet as Dumbledore spoke up.

"Thank you both," he said gently, and I could practically hear the twinkle in his eye. "Severus, I do believe you and Samantha have much to discuss. I wish you both the very best."

Snape nodded curtly, took me by the elbow, and pulled me from the Great Hall. Mimi and Vinny dashed after us, and a quick glance backward confirmed my suspicion that Dumbledore was in fact smiling.

Oh Sam, I thought to myself. What have you gotten yourself into?


End file.
